Bind to Thee
by Sugahlei
Summary: *(new name/reloaded)* A year or so has passed, and Sora's search for Riku comes to a conclusion. A collar unable to be removed, secret identities, and above all...a love. *yaoi-riku/sora*
1. one

****Warning/Disclaimer**  Kingdom** Hearts and it's various characters do NOT belong to me.  They belong to Squaresoft, Disney, yadda yadda yadda. I can't get rich off of this sort of stuff—but it does give me all sorts of added bonus.  XD

Anyhoo—AU fic, alternate ending, whatever.  It's my take on what should happen, and how Riku and Sora should get together, get over the whole thing etc.—since this is a _YAOI_ fic—two guys getting it on—there will be mention of sex—but sadly, it will be edited.  ^^  I'll provide a link to the uncut versions when it's needed…but for now…

Strictly R-rated…XD  Enjoy your stay! (and yea, it's really athravan)

**Bind to Thee**

:: one ::

_:: Frozen in time… ::_

_::__ —without your touch ::_

_:: —without your love ::_

_:: Bring me to life ::_

_:: Wake me up inside ::_

_:: Call my name and save me from the dark ::_

Without opening his eyes he could hear the wind around the edges of the shuttered window, the faint hiss of sand as it skittered against the walls.  The breeze, cool and moist in the early air, brushed over his bared shoulders and exposed feet.  It smelled of damp earth and the faint hot human smell.  Familiar.  The sun, newly born from the dark star-brushed night, was creeping slowly higher, glinting with golden light against the walls and floor.  He spent the time motionless, waiting for the first brush of the heat-giving light, like a caress of liquid gold in its purest form.

Without moving his body he felt the loose drape of the scratchy gauze sheet, the constriction of the slightly twisted leggings made of silky fabric.  The sunlight edged further, brushing tentatively against the exposed flesh of his legs, his bare feet.  As it warmed him slowly, he flexed a foot, and then stretched legs that felt sleep-heavy.  The collar around his throat was a barely noticed weight, slight comfort and oddly easing—and at the same time horrifyingly cold.

Since the day he had woken up in the desert, exhausted and near death, it had all seemed like some odd sort of dream.  All of it, the days he had spent with the cold sorceress Maleficent, the strange blurry instances he had of fighting Sora, of the darkness…

He could remember the kind words of that odd-looking King, the horror he felt as he heard Sora on the other side of that door, the hurt and loss as he tried with all his might to shut it, to possibly divide himself from the only close friend he had left.  

Then this place…

The presence of the collar, however, meant that this place, this dream, all was still horridly real.  The collar, the thin circlet of beaten gold, the only thing that tied him to this damned city—

Kept him here like a caged bird, like a leashed _pet_—

To his 'master'—his lip curled slightly in concealed derision—he was nothing more than a pet, a plaything, something to amuse him on the long days of repetition.  He knew Ithian wouldn't allow the collar to be removed, not for all the slaves in the city, for all the gold or power he was able to provide.  No matter who he fought, or what he declared or threatened…the collar wouldn't loosen.

~It leaves me cornered…I cannot fight enough to please him, and I will _not_ give him what he wants the most…~

Without knowing it, he inhaled softly, held the air in his lungs and whispered as quietly into the cool and pale morning light as he dared, a treasured image of sapphire eyes flickering in his thoughts.

 "…Sora…I need you…I miss you…where _are_ you?"

~=~

 "Your name, master?"

 "Huh?"

 "Your name? For the tournament entry?"

 "Oh, that, right…" the stranger pursed his lips, suddenly deep in thought.  "Ummm…" His bright eyes lit up with sudden revelation.  "Key! My name is Key."

Looking at the stranger with an unsure and obscure glance, the man taking down the competitors looked pointedly in the strange blade hung upon the narrow shoulders, the young face.  He shrugged minutely, thinking ~Never a real name anyways,~ then wrote the name deftly and stamped it with a seal.  

 "You'll start in the preliminary round, the melee.  If you are the last one standing, you proceed. The first 300 people will be split up into groups of ten and the strongest fighter from each group will ascend to the next level.  So on, so forth.  Got it down?"

 "Got it!" the young man said cheerily.

The attendant doubted he'd make it very far.  He motioned with a hand towards the nearest entrance, looked up for the next person-

"Oh, hey!  One more thing—who fights the final battle?"

 "Ithian's champion, Iceheart, is the top-tier fighter.  _If_—" the man stressed the word and smiled to show no offense.  "_If_ you make it that far, the final competition is fought blindfolded."

 "I see…Thanks!"

~What a strange human…~ the attendant thought, and promptly forgot about it as the long line of people—he was in charge of taking watchers and fighters today—slowly progressed.

~=~

 "Mmm…don't forget, Pet, what happens if you lose."

 "I know."

 "If you win, of course, all the luxuries a boy like you could need, all you could ever ask for will be granted—any_one_, any_thing_—"

Cold and mustering all the arrogance he could, he sneered and turned his face away.  "Keep to the agreement, Ithian."

 "Of course, of course," the leanly muscled man, raven-haired and ebon-eyed, merely smiled and raised templed fingers to his mouth.  With a good deal of lust he eyed his slave of nearly a year—his profitable irritating slave—and narrowed his eyes. He chose his next words carefully.  "If you _do_ lose…you would do well to keep _that_ part of the bargain as well…"

Stiffened shoulders betrayed the unease that didn't show on a smooth and golden-toned face.  "I _won't_ lose."  Aqua eyes flashed in anger, a sly glance shot at the elder man in askance.

Ithian smiled innocently, and examined his fingers.  "I hear the challenge is difficult today."

 "The challenge I fight is to stay _out_ of your bed, Ithian.  A challenge in the ring is better than the challenge of your bed," the slave spat.  "After all, you _did_ agree to a certain amount of victories to assure my freedom, did you _not_?"

Ithian curled a lip into a sneering smile.  "You'd serve me well either way, Pet.  Fame for your prowess, your legend…your virtue, if you will.  That gives me money, and attention like never before.  But if you lost even one match…Ah, I would be satisfied either way." Ithian reached out, caught fingers in long pale locks, twisting painfully until the boy more or less faced him.  "Be happy I do not tire of your insolence."

 "I pray for nothing less everyday," came the soft reply, biting and scornful.

Eyes narrowed into slits, mouth flattened into a line, Ithian casually backhanded the face with his free hand.  "You would be _wiser_ to pray I feel mercy and remove the collar that binds you to me.  There's still a chance—if you follow my advice—"

"—I will _not_ be your whore!" came the angry hiss.

 "—You _will_ be, if you lose," Ithian smirked, replied in a cold and dangerous voice as he pushed the boy away.  "Either way, I win."

Icy eyes the color of the sea narrowed.  "If I ever _do_ get this thing off, the first thing I do would be to seek you out, if only to rip out your tongue to gag that throat of yours as I eviscerate your entrails."

 "Such a pity, then," Ithian replied, unfazed.  "that the collar cannot be removed by anyone other than me—I have the only key."

From somewhere outside the balcony—for the room in which they waited was the upper level, two stories above the ground and arena seating—the gong sounded and the deafening waiting roar of the crowd surged into the tiny room.  The seats themselves were filled with all manner of people, shapes and sizes.  All of them, for the last three days, had raged into a bloodthirsty mob, screaming and cheering and mindless, in a way.

~Horrible,~ the boy thought. ~to face such a crowd, to find your life is nothing more than a mere passing amusement…~

 "Your cue, Pet."

Sneering over his shoulder at the tall raven-haired captor, he reached to heft the eyeless visor in his hands.  Beaten and chased silver in the shape of a raptor-bird, feathers that looked nearly real curved downward over the cheeks as it rested over the head.  From behind the curtain the roar of the crowd swelled to the point that he felt it in his bones, deep and throbbing as forgotten pain.  ~Another fight…~ he thought.  

His gut twisted as he thought of the consequences of failure.  Even thought he hadn't lost a fight yet—that fact alone made him respected and feared, made his 'master' Ithian rich—it had become common knowledge that the price of his _first_ loss would be different sort of loss.

He shuddered to think of it, revulsion as he envisioned the act with Ithian, unable to shake his sick sense of despair.  ~I will _never_ give myself to him…I would rather die…~  And yet, people from all over the cities and world came to see him fight, came to see if he lost that day.  They knew as well as Ithian that if he won only six more matches—_six more_—his freedom would be his—

—But more and more were trying for the 'prize' of Ithian's high-stake battle.  The silver-haired foreigner, the prize of five hundred thousand gil….It was all the prize of the last battle.  ~Defeat me in the arena…defeat me in the bed,~ he thought scornfully.  

He couldn't lose.  

He didn't _dare_.

Emotionlessly, he twirled the silver weight in his hands and walked to where the curtain wavered in the breeze, where Ithian stood with one arm up to see through to the frenzied crowd.

 "They lust for you, Pet." Ithian didn't look back to see him, merely smiled that cold smile down into the crowds.

 "Shut up," the boy said, and slipped the helm over his head, hating the cold feel of the metal on his skin, on his cheeks.  "Who am I fighting?"

 "A younger one named Key.  Lucky fellow—lucky, or stupid.  Fought three days straight, right through all the finals and contests.  He's good, I'll give him that.  Pretty, too."

 "So?  He'll be tired, then."

Long fingers reached out to tug at his hair.  "Are you prepared, Pet?  Win or lose…a fight amongst the sheets or out in the sand…are you ready?"

 "I _won't_ lose," he hissed again.

Ithian smiled, mysteriously pleased.  "We will see, Pet."  He swept back the curtain with one bare arm, standing dark against the brighter outside light.  Blind, the slave walked the few steps outward to the edge of the balcony that overlooked it all.  The crowd screamed out at him, screamed for blood and lust and excitement.

Without looking he caught the hand of Ithian meant to touch him and growled.  "I haven't lost, you disgusting pervert—_So don't touch me!_"

 "As you wish," Ithian sighed, and smiled a dark smile he was sure that his pet could see, even blinded as he was.  

The gates opened with a familiar grinding squeal.  Orientating himself by the noise, he raised a hand to greet the crowd and pushed a foot forward.  Toes felt the edge, skin shivered under the breeze.  The crowd responded with cheers and yells and screams of his name.

He shuddered every time he heard it.  

 "Iceheart! Iceheart!"

It brought back too many painful memories.  Too many things he didn't want to remember—couldn't _afford_ to remember in this game. 

~After this, six more tournaments.  Three months.  I will be free.~

He jumped, a graceful fall of tumbling agility, and landed catlike on the hard earthen ground.

The crowd went silent—

—and his opponent entered the arena, blind and cautious.  

Riku drew his blade.

~=~

Blood and sweat ran in rivulets down fatigue-trembling muscles, dripping into the dry and greedy dust beneath the bare feet of both.  They stood merely a pace from each other, both exhausted, both stubborn.  Both blind.  They had fought well past the third-hour mark, and were nearing the fourth.  The sun had dipped low in the sky; the air was cooling rapidly, shivers and goosebumps spreading while the breeze was strong.

No words had been spoken since the start because none had been needed.  Both of them knew that it wouldn't be much longer; both knew that it would be very close, knew in a way that needed no explanation.  They were evenly matched, opposites and equals in nearly all things.

The crowd, transfixed, fascinated, enthralled, kept the silence.  The only sounds were the harsh breathing, the whistles of the blades as they sliced air and met nothing, and the silvery chiming clashes when they did.  In the silence, in the echoing of the arena, the clashing of the two blades seemed very loud.

They knew this match was different.

The two figures, one pale and dressed only in a tattered pair of shorts, his silver helm gleaming in the fading light, stood in a ready stance, blade held out before him.  To his credit the blade shook only with the most minor of tremors, the tiniest clue to his tired body.  He was favored, respected, and many of the people urged him on in their secret hearts to win.

The second, slim and lethally quick, stood in an equally ready stance, his darker chestnut hair combed gently by the wind.  His clothing was a simple white shirt and trousers cut off at the knee, and his blade whispered "Foreigner" to the crowd, but they could not place how they knew.  Perhaps it was the way the boy had walked, confident and sure of his steps, when so many before him had faltered.  Or perhaps it was his youth, close to the one they cheered, as if they were a matching piece of something long forgotten.

Iceheart would have a tough time of it all, many were thinking, and feeling a strange sort of pity.  With Ithian, it was always pity, always sympathy, but never interference.  Many knew of Ithian, and his reputation for making a devil's bargain.  Many knew of the cruelty afforded to his slaves, the hopelessness and the helpless servility, his power and prestige, his rank and flashing temper.  Many knew that Iceheart, had he been given a proper chance, would have won his freedom many many days ago.

Many knew of Ithian's greed, and _all_ feared him.

Dust skittered in furling spurts, blown by the wind's sporadic touch.  It played with the loose fabric ripped around Ice's knees, the spiky dark hair of the one called Key.  The dust blew against their ankles, both of the barefoot in this place, and as it touched, set them off again.

It was the last.

Blocking, ducking low behind the gleaming metal, Iceheart pivoted on a single foot, spinning and slashing out with his blade—

—and the resistance he expected, the parry, was _not there_!

A step sounded to his left, and the cold touch of metal against his throat, and he knew, he _knew_, he had been defeated.  A short pained sound escaped from his mouth before he could stop it, a sound that spoke of anguish and longing, a sound that twisted something in the heart of his opponent and left him wondering.

The blade fell from pale fingers, signaling defeat.  Ithian, high in the over-balcony, smiled darkly behind his hand.

The crowd exploded into a frenzied roar of disbelief and cheering, deafening, numbing, to the sinking heart of the boy kneeling in the center.

~=~

Somehow, in the confusion afterwards, he found himself walking the upper halls of Ithian's sprawling castle-like home, helm dangling from one hand and the other trailing against cool marble.  He didn't remember standing and walking from the arena, he didn't remember feeling deafened by the roar of disbelief as he left.

All he felt was cold shame and the bright hot sparks of despair choking through his throat.

~I _lost_…~

The silver helm dropped to the floor with a resounding clash, bouncing.  The golden collar felt icy against his neck, restricting and almost painful.  He ignored it, stepping with bare feet and looking with blank eyes until a voice murmured a question.

 "You lost, didn't you?"

Riku froze, one hand pressed against the wall in sudden emotion, shoulders tense.  "Yes," he said, without turning.  "I lost."

A gentle touch brushed his shoulder.  "It's okay," said the voice. Riku turned slowly, his mind screaming out ~It's _not_ okay!~ over and over.  Before him stood an old man, stick-thin and wrinkled, pale and age-spotted.  A worn and tarnished collar graced the column of the throat. White stringy hair swept back into a meager ponytail, and warm brown eyes smiled gently, forgivingly, understanding, into his.

 "It's not," Riku whispered.  "I…I can't…I won't—"

Long slender fingers, unmarked and still resilient, patted at his shoulder.  The brown eyes twinkled in hidden mirth.  "Oh, it's not so bad," the man said.

Riku felt a flash of anger, scowled and turned it away before it erupted into a childish and unnecessary display of temper.  "Belnak—just leave me alone.  I want some peace and quiet for a little while…"

 "I have something important to tell you, Ice." 

Rolling his eyes, Riku made a bored face at the old man and frowned.  "What is it then?"

 "The collar will open when, and _only_ when you lay with the one who defeated you.  The prize is your body, and the keying to unlock your collar is to _give up_ that prize..."

It took a long moment to sink in, the meaning of that statement.  The victor…Ithian hadn't lied about that…the victor would take his body, and subsequently return his freedom…the collar would open.  He would be free.

The price was his body, young and unbroken as it was…and…

And Ithian had _lied_ about that.  Disgust and a self-hatred of _believing_ such a lie swarmed within him, choking him.  Riku looked down, seeing his clenched fists and and bloodless knuckles.  His jaw ached, and he knew—he could feel it—his eyes had narrowed into murderous slits.  

 "He lied," he stated.

 "He always does," Belnak responded.  "He _always_ lies.  You have a chance…do not pass it up…"

Riku raised his narrowed eyes, a glint of something dark and dangerous in their cerulean depths.  "Thank you, Belnak," he said softly.  "I will not forget this…"

Belnak smiled gently, and patted the shoulder one last time.  "I wish you well, young man.  Fare well and good journey, to you."

Nodding once, Riku turned, and sped down the hall as fast as he could walk.  If he hurried, washed and dressed in the appropriate clothing—of course, one couldn't call what he was required to wear 'appropriate'—he would make his way to the banquet.  He would do his best to convince the victor, this Key to take what was now his.  Ithian be dammed, he would be free by morning.

~Soon,~ he thought.  ~Very soon…~

~=~

He held his head high as he descended upon the carpet-clad stairs, one pale hand resting carefully upon the railing, and slippered feet stepping silently.  He knew, as everyone knew, that tonight would be…different.  That it would be _this_ night—

He had lost, and everyone knew, everyone was whispering about it behind their hands and when he wasn't looking.  He could see pity and respect and sympathy in the eyes he met.  So he held his head high as he walked, pale and composed and living up to his name.

Servants, some of them well known, darted through the crowds dressed in sheer silk and woven silver, carrying platters of rich and exotic food, small beverages.  Some were escorting other attendants out of the room for other 'favors.'  Riku smiled faintly at a few, reassuring them in the only way possible. 

His eyes, however, darted to the tall and dark haired man responsible for all of his suffering, his imprisonment and humiliation, and smiled a bit wider.  He knew how to play this game, taught by the darkest of the night.  He threw back his shoulders, raised his chin a notch when Ithian's ebon eyes wandered in his direction.

He threw a dark seductive writhe into his step, and watched it spread across the room.  Another step and he was standing at the extending carpet upon the floor, looking out into the unfamiliar faces, his hand grazing the polished rail.  He felt everyone's eyes turn towards him as if pulled by some invisible force, and smiled darkly inside.

Ithian, separated from his prize possession by only a few people and a chair, narrowed his eyes, suspicious, but unable to help the way his dark eyes fell down the lines of Riku's body, clad in pale gauzy whites and blues, with the faint glitter of gold dusting his cheeks and chest.  Thin gold bracelets clinked along his wrists in musical testimony to his presence.  Riku paused, allowing a tiny smile to form upon his face.  

His eyes scanned the crowd, some seated at the long table of the hall, looking towards the seat of honor—the position next to Ithian—

—a crystal goblet fell to the floor with a shattering noise, loud and sudden and sharp—

Riku looked into sapphire eyes, and felt his world shimmer into a strange sense of disbelief, hope and breathlessness.

~…Sora…~

~tbc~


	2. two

****Warning/Disclaimer****

Kingdom Hearts and it's various characters do NOT belong to me.  They belong to Squaresoft, Disney, yadda yadda yadda. I can't get rich off of this sort of stuff—but it does give me all sorts of added bonus.  XD

Anyhoo—AU fic, alternate ending, whatever.  It's my take on what should happen, and how Riku and Sora should get together, get over the whole thing etc.—since this is a _YAOI_ fic—two guys getting it on—there will be mention of sex—but sadly, it will be edited.  ^^  (music's by Evanescence…XD they rule…)

Strictly R-rated…XD  Enjoy your stay!

**Bind to Thee**

**:two****:**

_::without a soul:: ___

_::my spirit's sleeping somewhere cold:: ___

_::until you find it there and lead it back:: ___

_::__—home:: ___

_::wake me up inside:: ___

_::save me:: ___

_::now that I know what I'm without:: _

_::you can't just leave me:: _

_::breathe into me and make me real:: _

_::bring me to life:: _

_::call my name and save me from the dark::_

_::save me from the nothing I've become:: _

His chest ached with the breathless burning of too much exertion.  Sweat cooled under the low half-hearted breeze, itchy on his over-warm skin.  Sand grated under his bare heels, muscles burned, threatening to cramp as he stood there, sword raised against the other fighter's body.  The tip was shaking with the harsh breathing—he could tell the other was just as winded as he was. 

~Did I…win?~ 

Under his own gasping he heard a muffled sound of despair, so clear in the expectant silence.  A painful, wounded wordless murmur...  Sora wondered with brief alarm if he had inadvertently wounded the other.  The next sound he heard, in his natural concern, was the muted and unmistakable clang of the sword landing in the dirty skittering sand. 

Sora stepped back cautiously, waiting just in case—

—and the crowd, in shock or excitement—it was hard to tell which—with what they witnessed, exploded into a deafening cacophony of screaming excitement. 

~I _won_.~ Sora thought, somewhat dazed.  ~They're really _loud_.~  After a second, his Keyblade wavering downwards in his relaxing hand, he reached up with his free hand and yanked the blindfold from his eyes, exhaling in relief as he did so.  He blinked, as the low-laying sun gleamed brilliantly through the spokes of the pillared arena and looked around, squinting.  The crowds were _packed _with standing people—something he hadn't expected—most of them were screaming out indecipherable words, waving arms and brightly colored scarves.  

Sora grinned shyly, exhausted and relieved now that he had won, and thought ~I'll have enough money to repair the ship, now.~  He swiped his forearm across his brow, took a deep breath. 

A flicker of movement caught his eye.  As he turned, he realized his opponent was rising to his feet—it was another boy, he noticed.  A flat golden-tanned chest, muscular arms and glistening with sweat.  Sora flushed and pushed his eyes away from the sight, uncomfortable with the way he seemed to enjoy that all to much.  Instead he focused on the oddly shaped head, and realized it was a helmet of sorts. 

Light gleamed in sharp coruscation off the silver helm hiding the face from view—a raptor's visage with tooled feathers and everything. A barely visible lower-face, a mouth and chin, appeared beneath the curved protective front.  He watched as the boy turned away, his shoulders stiff and the pace slow and halting. 

~Is he upset because he lost? ~ Sora frowned.  Thinking on it, Sora wondered if the boy, Iceheart, had been fighting for his freedom—Gold glinted about the neck from under sweat-darkened hair.  ~He is a slave...that's a collar on his neck...~    
He hadn't seen one that looked like a necklace before.  But…a slave?  ~I'll _never_ get used to that idea...slaves...~ he shook his head.  ~It's just…not right...~ 

~*~

~A slave...~ he mused, minutes later, in the dark of his rented lodging.  He was carefully toweling his body free of sweat and irritating sand, his hair freshly washed and dripping cool water onto his neck.  He had struggled his way free of thousands of people congratulating him, giving him odd knowing looks and narrow grins.  What a weird city.  Some had even looked angry, but that was probably more because he had won, and he was a stranger.  

His mind slipped to the muscled half-naked fighter from before, wondered what the face was like under the mask.  ~I didn't know they allowed the slaves to fight…I didn't see anyone else with a collar on…this place _is_ weird.~ 

~Not that I know _everything_ about this place...gods...I think I've gotten into more trouble _here_ than in my entire life...~ 

It was more or less true—the desert city he was in was very strict, very orderly. So different, so _strange_ from the casual freedom of the islands.  The whole slave thing—well, blame the honor-code of the people, where honor was a thing treasured most in a desert world that survived on the dependence of someone's ability to hold true. 

~_Really_ weird,~ Sora thought, thinking about it. 

The society itself was run upon the word and honor of a person—if someone couldn't hold to it, or owed someone a large sum of money, theft and similar crimes, then a collar was placed around the neck until the debt was paid.  There were different types of collars, depending on the form of punishment, debt or price.  Thin leather straps with silver buckles and a small lock of the same metal were more common.  The higher the crime, or the greater the debt, the fancier the collar.  

~A gold collar…I guess that means Ithian has his top slave fight...but for what?~ 

Ithian…he didn't seem the type to generously allow a blatant chance at repayment.  The man was conniving and thoroughly decrepit, a master at smoothly worming promises or agreements out of unsuspecting people.  That much Sora had learned in his careful inquiries.  It was best to know everything about this Ithian, if this was the man who had to hand over the money owed—

And Sora had to know everything possible.  It wasn't hard to find out, either.  In the darker seedier bars, _anyone_ was willing to talk if you had enough money—and Sora had enough.  Well, enough for the right questions…He guessed it was a good thing that he had also gotten quite good at asking the right questions without seeming to pry. 

And the honor of a person, Sora had learned, was very important.  Honesty, honor…all these people depended on it to survive, and over the years it had developed into a strange society that placed those values above all.  ~Which is why,~ Sora mused, ~they all like watching the fighting.  No one fights with other people unless they are slaves, already accused of crimes or the like.  They're bound by too many rules.~ 

But he had heard other disturbing things besides the presence of slavery and fighting in the arena. 

Ithian, from what he had heard, was a sadistic bastard, one of a few to master an un-breakable collar.  Rumors had it that Ithian kept a sorcerer locked up to do his dirty work, instead of relying on the honor of another man, his word and trust.  A collar and a key—but the collar was just a piece of magic-worked gold.  The collars had no visible lock, no way to remove them—Rumors had it that the collars unlocked only _after _the debt had been paid. 

—Ithian, as clever as he was, was the sort of person to make sure that his slaves never got free. 

~If that's true...then...the one _I _fought…Iceheart...~ 

Rumors had it that Iceheart, virgin and cold and unbeatable in the arena, had found himself taken in by Ithian's empty promises and found himself collared.  Rumors had it that Ithian wanted Iceheart for _more _than his fighting skills—he wanted the boy for a bedslave.  Not uncommon—

—but Iceheart had refused. 

In this place, no one refused Ithian.  The man was powerful, frightening and brilliantly cold-hearted. 

Rumors stated that Iceheart had agreed to fight in the arena to pay off his debt, and that if he ever lost...his body would be forfeit.  Virgins were rare, it seemed.  Rare and pricey. 

Sora shuddered, and felt a pang of guilt.  ~That means I had a hand in destroying his dream of getting out of here...jeez. That he's gotta...~ 

~Whoa, hold on—I can't afford to worry about some nameless slave! I have more important things to do!!~ He sighed, and crushed the towel in his hands, larger hands that were nicked with small scars from countless battles.  

~Better things…I _really _can't wait to get out of here...I can't wait...~ 

Sora sighed, and let the towel drop.  ~Riku...~ 

~*~

When he opened the door, dressed and intent on finding Donald and Goofy, a slave—young, shy and undeniably male—was waiting outside of his room. He stopped short, wary.  "Yes?" 

The slave bounced up from his seated position and bowed deep with fluid grace of long practice.  "Master Ithian requests your presence," the young male said softly.  He didn't raise his eyes. 

"Uh…" Sora glanced down the hall where his companions waited, and shrugged.  "Can you give me a moment?" 

 "Of course, m'Lord," the boy murmured and sank back into a seated position. 

Sora gave the slave-boy a confused glance, and slipped around him to jog towards the two teammates.  "Um…guys, he wants me to go with him and meet that Ithian guy," he said before Donald could ask.  Judging by the irritated look, Sora had just beat him to speaking. 

"He's probably just going to give your prize," Donald rasped, huffing.  "It shouldn't be a problem if you go and see him.  We've got plenty of time."

Sora grimaced, and scratched the back of his head.  "I don't know—I've heard some bad things about this guy…"

Donald snorted and eyed him derisively.  "Idiot.  What threat could this guy possibly be?" 

"Well…" Sora drawled.  He wasn't sure why he felt so uneasy about it, and couldn't explain it to the diminutive fowl.  "I just don't want to, you know, underestimate him or anything…"

Donald rolled his eyes and muttered, "Whatever.  Come on, Goofy.  I wanna visit the bazaar in the lower city.  Sora," the duck turned his head with strict command.  "Go and find out what Ithian wants.  We'll catch up to you later." 

"But—"

"Aw, it'll be okay, Sora.  We won't be very far…" Goofy murmured and smiled at him. 

Sighing, Sora shrugged and waved them off.  "Yeah, okay.  I'll see you guys in a while…or send someone to find you, or _something_…"  He turned back to face the room and the boy still kneeling against the wall and drew his brows together in a small pout of frustration. 

"Hey," he said, as he got closer.  "What exactly does Ithian want? Can you tell me?" 

The boy looked up with wide lavender eyes.  "There will be a banquet tonight, in your honor.  Ithian requests your presence, since you are the first to defeat Iceheart—" the low and shy voice broke off, and the boy looked down. 

"Really?  He's never been defeated?"  Sora replied, even though he had already guessed at this.  It paid to have confirmation. 

"No," the boy said slowly.  "Not once."  Then he rose lithely, smaller than Sora, his short and somewhat spiky black hair drifting gently.  "Shall we proceed?" 

Sora shrugged.  "Sure, why not?" 

They walked for nearly fifteen minutes, down the dark halls of simple wooden paneling, and out into the wide and sun-bright street.  Merchants and vendors lined the sides, yelling out their wares and competing through voice alone.  Smells and sounds were a blur of impression, while people dressed in brightly colored clothing, red and blues and purples, wandered slowly amongst them.  Many of the females wore golden jewelry, bracelets and rings and elaborate headdresses that sparkled with gems—but no where did Sora see a golden collar about the neck of anyone.  In fact, the only people to wear anything about their neck at all were the slaves—

And they were remarkably easy to point out.  Most wore as little clothing as possible, or less.  All wore a collar of some sort, leather, dull thin-beaten copper, heavy iron…but no gold.  ~I wonder just how many slaves are qualified to wear gold…~

Then he thought, ~Iceheart must have been one hell of a fighter to get a gold-collar status.  He must be really good, or really valuable.  Probably both.~  He eyed the slim boy with the dark hair and lavender eyes, noting the simple leather collar with its gold bar sealing the ends, and wondered.  

They passed a stall with noisy animals—a cross between horses and camels, with long shaggy fur and ugly faces, broad legs and short stubby tails—and Sora grimaced from the smell.  The boy ahead of him didn't seem to notice the noise or the acrid smell, adroitly sidestepping whatever piles of dung that littered the ground. 

"Hey…" Sora called.  "Hey—"

The boy turned his head, pausing slightly as Sora caught up.  They were standing in the shadow of the taller stall nearby —an apparent reservoir of birds, all shapes and sizes, and it was relatively quiet.  

"Yes, m'Lord?" 

"Ah," Sora smiled sheepishly.  "I'm not a lord, or anything like that.  You can call me So—" he looked away, eyes dark.  "Er—Key.  You can say my name, you know…"

"Alright…Key…" the boy bowed his head in acceptance.  "Was there something you needed?" 

"I have a question…" Sora shrugged half-heartedly.  "Umm…first off, what's your name?" 

A slim black brow rose, and a shadow of a hesitant smile flitted across the face of the boy.  "I am called Miruki." 

"Okay, Miruki—" Sora grinned.  "Second question!  What's up with using gold for collars?  What's the deal?" 

Miruki looked uncomfortable.  "It is…not something we are allowed to speak of." 

"Oh," Sora looked crestfallen.  "Not anything?" 

"I am sorry…Key." 

"No, it's okay," Sora assured him.  "I pretty much assumed that you wouldn't…but I needed to ask." 

Miruki nodded as they began to walk again.  "Is there anything else I can assist you with?" he asked politely.  His gaze was slightly troubled, and Sora noticed that his hands were shaking slightly. 

"…did I do something wrong by winning the tournament?" Sora asked distantly, after a long pause.  "I get the feeling that I wasn't supposed to win." 

Miruki looked away, his hands twisting slightly.  "I…I don't know what you mean," he whispered.  

Sora caught his arm and turned the boy to face him.  "I'm _serious_," he warned just as quietly.  "Is something going to happen to the other fighter, now?  Did I do something—something that I _shouldn't_ have?!" 

Lavender eyes peered at him, wide and alarmed.  "M'Lord Key—" he gasped.  "Please—I'm not allowed to speak of it!" 

Sora inhaled slowly to keep his temper, and shook his head.  "Miruki, don't play the fool with me...If there's something I need to know, _tell me_…"  

The boy quivered slightly, hunching.  "The p-prize of the tournament," the boy stuttered in a rushed and nearly silent voice.  "Ice is yours by right—it was part of his debt—but Ithian won't let him repay it and he's going to get _hurt_—he's my _friend_ and Ithian will—he will—" Miruki drew in a shaky breath, nearly sobbing.  "You don't know what Ithian's like—he's cold and heartless and _evil _and he's—he's going to—"

Sora felt his hand tighten to frightening strength. "Stop," he whispered.  "What do you mean, part of Ice's debt?" 

Miruki looked up, face drawn and pale.  "It was only a few months ago that Ithian changed the prize to include Ice as well—the winner would get a chance to take him to bed but Ice never lost any of those battles—and _you've_ won, Key—"

~Take him…to bed?~ Sora thought, mind flashing into a decidedly lewd twist.  ~As in actually _sleep_ with him?~ 

The boy's voice dropped to a pained whisper, and a hand came up to grip at his with surprising intensity, catching his attention.  "But Ithian would rather kill him than allow another to take what he deems his..." 

"Why are you telling me this?" he said. 

A gleam of hope entered those lavender eyes.  "He has the chance to be free…because of you…"

~*~

"Master Ithian—your guest is here," a nameless female servant whispered to him.  Ithian didn't respond as he heard and stored it in his head.  He waved his hand after a second of thought, and stood.  His dark hair was twisted into a sleek braid, accenting his narrow tanned face and dark eyes.  Clothing rustled in the whispery way of fine-weaving, settling into folds of dark gray and subtle green. 

He smiled, as the girl scuttled backwards in her automatic fear.  He went to the window, looking out upon the harsh lands of the desert, and idly adjusted his clothing around his shoulders.  

~Soon,~ he thought, half-aroused by the lust in his mind over his impertinent slave, and the long-awaited prize.  ~I will have you in my bed, where I want you, and I will _take_ you for what you are…Mine.~ 

The door opened behind him.  Footsteps, light and unhesitant.  Ithian turned to see the boy from the arena, cleaned and dressed in simple clothes.  Eyes of brilliant sapphire peered unafraid at him, and a slight smile was on his face.  

 "Hello," Ithian greeted him with a smooth smile.  "Master Key?" he asked, and smiled wider when the boy nodded.  "I trust that the boy explained the purpose of this visit?" 

A slim brow rose, and the boy, Key, replied, "A banquet, right?" 

Ithian nodded, watching him closely.  "Yes, indeed.  Many of the important figures of this city will be attending.  I took the liberty of holding a place for you, since you are the guest of honor.  I trust this is fine?" 

"Yeah," the boy shrugged.  "He mentioned something about getting my prize then, too, so I figured I'd better go." 

"Ah, yes.  That.  It will be handed out near the end of the meal, have no worries."  He paused, lacing his hands together, and nodded down upon the slight figure.  "If you would like, I can provide a change of clothing and a room for you, here, for the night?" 

Something flickered through those dark-blue eyes, gone in an instant, and the boy was nodding before Ithian could decipher what exactly he had seen.  

"I'd like that," he said.  "Miruki said that the banquet would start within the hour, right?" 

"Miruki? Oh, the slave.  I take it he likes you—would you like him as a personal attendant for the evening?" He smiled as he thought, ~Perhaps you'll take a liking to him in more ways than one…~

"Sure," the boy drawled.  "That'd be great!" 

~*~

Sora had to fight to keep his expression neutral as Ithian led the way to banquet.  The place was huge, with sweeping hallways of pale marble and carpeted floors.  The windows stretched to nearly the ceiling, and every time he looked, Sora saw the bowing slave or the flash of skin as someone darted out of view.  Inside he marveled at the sheer wealth the home portrayed, the size and richness of the paintings, the spotlessness. 

~I would _love_ to explore this place.~ 

~Yeah, like I'm gonna get the chance,~ he thought next, and pushed his gaze back to where Ithian was striding.  The man had personally led him to his temporary room, waiting outside while he 'freshened up' and now escorted him to the banquet hall.  He got the distinct feeling that the man was keeping him from seeing _something_—but he had no clue what. 

Sora frowned faintly and noted that they had taken a third left.  ~Circles, eh?  What are we stalling for, Ithian?~  He glanced to Miruki on the left, and then to where a second slave, younger than the dark-haired Miruki, walked quietly.  Neither slave dared to raise their eyes any further than knee-level.  Sora wondered if it was something Ithian enforced, this meekness.

~They're afraid of the guy….I guess the rumors were true, then.  He's sadistic and cruel…~ Sora narrowed his eyes at the elegantly dressed figure.  ~Now the question is…am I supposed to do something about it?~ 

Ithian spoke casually.  "So tell me, Master Key.  Why did you choose this city to take your leave?" 

Sora smiled cheerfully and laced his hands behind his head.  "Oh, nothing really.  I needed the money, and it was pure chance, I guess," he paused, thinking desperately of a way to sound more harmless.  "Besides, I heard that this was the place to be if you wanted excitement." 

Ithian smiled at him, turning down an intersection.  "This way," he murmured with an out-flung hand.  "And this _is_ the place to be," he continued.  

The doors leading into the banquet hall stood open before them, spilling sound and the bright flash of color into the passage.  Sora caught his breath in surprise, eyes darting to one impressive sight after the other.  "…nice," he managed after a second.  "I…I can't describe it…"

Ithian looked pleased, folding his hands together as he flashed a sharp smile.  "Truly?  You enjoy my display?" 

He couldn't help being impressed as they walked through the tall open archway, into the sound and splendor of wealth and blatant luxuries.  Things he had never had, things he hadn't seen before, only heard and thought of.  Looking up to see candles in delicate sconces, then over to the expensive-laid tables, he couldn't help but stop entirely to gaze upon the sight. 

People milled in bright color, skin and glints of jewelry, weaving around the tall fluted pillars.  Slaves dressed in simple silver collar and revealing silk darted around in similar outfits of pale green.  Here and there a few were personal attendants to guests upon lush velvet divans, while others served drinks and small treats.  The guests, nobles and wealthy people, didn't seem to notice their presence unless offered something, drink, food or sex.  Sora barely noticed himself, staring past the people to pale marble walls that gleamed in the light, warm now that the sun was set behind the earth. Windows were open to receive the cooling desert air.  Curtains of the light silken gauze fluttered, controlled with ribbons to arch in accent to the casements that stretched from floor to ceiling. 

~God…I don't think I'll ever see anything as incredible as this,~ Sora thought. 

Ithian bowed fluidly from the waist, watching his face with a sly smile. "I am happy you are impressed, Master Key.  Please, make yourself comfortable and enjoy the evening to your fullest.  If you will excuse me, I have introductions to make—I will join you later, if that is alright?" 

The brunette blinked and looked over.  "Sure, no problem." 

~So many people…~

Minutes passed, as Sora wandered further into the hall, past the tables and the people that gave him veiled looks of suspicion, past the slaves who didn't raise their eyes to anyone, and frowned.  ~Half of them are slaves,~ he realized, looking closer.  ~Or criminals, or whatever a collared person is to them—~

~It's still not right…I can't argue with the idea of making it obvious you committed a crime…but…~

~There should be another way.~ 

A slender woman smiled faintly as she floated in front of him, eyes averted, and offered a glass of wine upon a silver tray.  "My lord?" 

"Thank you," Sora murmured, and cradled the goblet..  He continued walked, avoiding any other contact, and observing, filing details away in his mind without a second thought.  After a while, glass mostly full, Miruki appeared at his side.  He was dressed in the same gauzy robes as the others, his lesser-rank collar a painful mark of thievery.  A strong scent of flowers drifted from him. 

Sora smiled and assumed the boy had just arrived from the bath.  "Hey," he said.  "It's quite a show.  Are you sure it's all because of me?  Seems like Ithian would take any chance to show off all of this," Sora waved his hand.  "It's…very big." 

Miruki nodded. "It is," he said softly.  "Is there anything I can get you, M'Lord Key?" 

"No," Sora shrugged, and smiled cheerfully.  "I'm good for now." 

The dark-haired boy nodded again, smiling faintly in response. "Allow me to show you to your seat, then?" 

~*~

A man caught his sleeve, as the women around him smiled, flirting and giggling.  "Sir," came the voice. 

Ithian turned his head.  "Yes?" he murmured.  "What is it?" 

"It is time." 

~*~

"Miruki," Sora said after a moment.  "I don't know what you want me to do." 

Well, he had a clue—

~Oh, please—you know very well what the 'prize' is.  You get to take Ice upstairs and—~

Sora squeezed his eyes shut out of frustration and scowled faintly.  ~Not now, dammit!  I can worry about that later!~ 

Better to play the simple innocent boy, play the game and see what the stakes were.  Yeah.  Right.  He glanced down.  Kneeling upon a flat cushion to his left, the slave looked up at him questioningly, watching him without speaking. 

"Look," Sora began.  "I have no intention of doing anything right now.  I'm here because…because I..." he paused, searching.  "Because someone needs help.  Not because I want _that_ from him."  A flush shimmered over his cheeks as he continued, "Do you understand?" 

"I—" Miruki looked suddenly alarmed.  "Forgive me—I didn't mean to imply—"

"No, no, it's okay!" Sora reassured him hastily. 

The dark boy bowed his head.  Sighing, the older boy took a generous sip of his wine and swallowed.  ~I just want outta here,~ he thought pleadingly.  Minutes passed with the timeless pace of anticipation and uneasiness.  He could see the other people, the nobles, slowly gathering into their spots—well, gathering into a group so far.  He could tell more and more of them knew who he was, what he had done earlier.  They were looking, mild speculation and amusement on their faces. 

Sora only smiled innocently at them. 

It must have been getting to the unspecified time of dinner—slaves and workers began to carry out steaming platters of delicate food, sliced meat garnished with slices of greenery—a plant called _le'uc__, Miruki explained after a questioning look. _

~Food,~ was what his stomach would say.  "It's about time," he said to himself, and grinned.  

Ithian left his group of admirers and began to make his way towards Sora's place.  He looked quite regal, walking sedately in his flowing gray-green silks.  His face was smooth, arrogant and cold—

Sora shuddered slightly.  Change the hair and skin, and he'd be watching Ansem walk towards him all over again.  God—the man must have cloned himself. 

"Rise!" Miruki urged, bowing as Ithian drew near. 

Goblet in hand, Sora stood, nodding his head tightly, and struggling to smile. 

A flicker of movement, heads turning and whispers of surprise, just as Ithian crested the table and looked down at him.  The man, too, turned his head to see what had caught the attention.  

Blinking, Sora raised his eyes to the figure of a boy stepping down the stairs.  He was dressed in translucent blue threaded with silver, his arms and midriff bare beneath a gauzy embroidered vest.  One hand trailed gently along the rail as he descended.  Muted whispers filled the hall, shock and disbelief and a subtle sense of victory. 

~Iceheart,~ rang in Sora's mind.  His eyes passed quickly over the muscled form, unable to place the niggling sense in his mind as the slave reached the last step, the crowd parting before him.  His eyes slid to the golden collar, confirming it, and then went further.  To the face, heart thumping oddly. 

To the face framed with wisps of silver-gilt hair, the face in his dreams and nightmares, as Riku began to walk forward. 

~Oh god,~ Sora thought.  To Miruki's horror, the goblet of wine fell from his hand to shatter upon the floor, sharp in the near-silence.  ~_Oh god,~ he thought again.  ~…Riku?~ _

Cerulean eyes met his for an instant, and he knew. 

~No way…he's not here, it can't be him…no fucking way…~ he sucked in a shallow disbelieving breath as Miruki, in slow motion, grabbed for the folded napkins and began gathering the shards of crystal, looking up in confusion at Sora's frozen face.  Other people glanced at him, curiosity sharpened, eyes needling into him. 

~Riku…_Riku…~_

Then: ~What the _hell_ is he wearing!?~ as the eyes widened slightly. 

Then the contact was gone, a figure in gray-green silks strode forward.  Time snapped back with a rush of sound, people murmuring to themselves.  Sora didn't care—even if it had only been a moment, he _knew_ Riku had seen him. 

He wanted to leap over the tables, screaming, and grab the other boy in a hug so tight he'd crack ribs.  He wanted to laugh, to cry, and smile so big his face would freeze that way—he wanted—

~Wait,~ a little voice whispered. 

He took a step forward as Ithian reached the still figure of Riku, and reached out a hand. 

~Something's wrong.~ 

Almost imperceptibly, Riku stiffened.  If Sora hadn't known him, hadn't grown up with his variety of moods and body language, he wouldn't have seen it.  As it was, he couldn't have missed the way his eyes darkened to a shade of slate, the way his hands twitched.  The slash of a mouth, and the pale color under the tan.  The _angry look. _

Then it hit him.  ~Riku's…_Iceheart__? ~ Again, his eyes went to the collar, the exultant air around Ithian as the man grazed fingers through the silver hair.  Eyes of the surrounding spectators flickered to him expectantly, waiting for something that Sora couldn't name. _

If he would have had another glass of wine, he would have dropped that too. 

~Damnit, Riku—what have you done?!~ 

Thousands of questions muttered into his mind as he stood there, frozen and reeling.  He had the mild thought that he should be thankful that his face was still smooth, still passive, and wondered just what the hell was going on. 

~Why _Iceheart for a name,~ came a second.  ~Why not his own…~___

_//Rumors had it that Ithian wanted Iceheart for more than his fighting skills—he wanted the boy for a bedslave.//  _

_//Rumors had it that Iceheart, virgin and cold and unbeatable in the arena, had found himself taken in by Ithian's empty promises and found himself collared.// _

~…no…~__

_//"But Ithian would rather kill him than allow another to take what he deems his..."// _

~No!  Riku wouldn't—~  He drew in a shallow breath, realizing that only moments had passed since his missing friend had appeared.  ~He was tricked.  He was tricked into that collar, and he _knew it…and he's…~_

 "I almost left," Sora whispered in horrified realization.  "I almost _left this damn place…"_

 "M'Lord?" Miruki hissed, his eyes wide, and reached up to tug on his sleeve.  "Is something wrong?" 

 "No," the brunette whispered after a moment.  "No, I'm fine. Sorry—I got distracted," he murmured lamely.  His eyes flickered to where Ithian was leading Riku towards the table, the guests filing away to their own seats and he pushed away the scowl. 

 "Ah, Pet," Ithian was murmuring.  "How exquisite you look—I'm so glad you could join us…" His gaze was possessive as his raked his eyes down the body.  Riku had his eyes lowered away from the gaze of everyone.  Sora felt a skittering of ice touch him, the sensation of Riku's hidden anger scouring away at his senses.   

 "I didn't come because you wanted me to," the low achingly familiar voice murmured.  

Ithian smiled wider, laughing gently.  "No, of course not," he said as fingers brushed against the neck just above the collar.  "I hardly expected you to.  It's a pleasant…change.  One I hope to have…repeated?" 

Riku glanced up as they neared the table, a fleeting quick glance that pierced Sora through.  A challenge wrapped in anger, molten and seething.  A flicker of pleading.  "Is this Master Key?" he questioned coolly, face impassive while eyes gave his secret desperation. 

~…he didn't use my name…?~ Sora thought, confused. 

 "Ah, yes," Ithian murmured, his voice a touch colder.  "This is the one who defeated you." 

 "You're right—he's very cute." 

 "Uh—" Sora blinked in a sudden sense of off-balance, knowing that Riku had a very good reason for saying what he had said—but—~I'm _cute_?~ 

Riku swayed forward then to greet him with an embrace, arms heavy with bracelets reaching up to clasp him gently, leaning into him.  A mouth brushed his ear in the pretense of touching his cheek—

—for some inane reason Sora noticed that he was nearly the same height, now, and grinned inwardly—

—Then Riku whispered in barely audible tones, "_You don't know me_," and was away in the space of a heartbeat.  Sora inhaled the faint clean smell, a _Riku scent, and swallowed.  _

~Right, got that. I don't know him—shit, what do I do?  Gotta stall!~

 "This," he began, grabbing the first instinct that emerged, and sent his eyes raking down the body, "must be Iceheart."  ~_Think!~ _

Riku bowed from the waist. 

~Crap!  What do I do?!~ 

~Wait—the prize!  Riku is part of my prize!~  

Then: ~I did _not just think that…~  Face smoothed into a mask of amusement, Sora smiled a slow smile, eyes narrow in challenge—the act seemed to work— and said, "How about we skip the meal and get to…my prize?"_

~tbc


	3. three

****Warning/Disclaimer**  Kingdom** Hearts and it's various characters do NOT belong to me.  They belong to Squaresoft, Disney, yadda yadda yadda. I can't get rich off of this sort of stuff—but it does give me all sorts of added bonus.  XD

Anyhoo—AU fic, alternate ending, whatever.  It's my take on what should happen, and how Riku and Sora should get together, get over the whole thing etc.—since this is a _YAOI_ fic—two guys getting it on—there will be mention of sex—but sadly, it will be edited.  ^^

_****NOTICE**** The lemon which would have been in this chapter was removed to keep it…regulation.  _  er, yeah.  I'll be providing a link to the complete, **uncut **version in my ***profile*** so head there when you reach the bottom of the fic, tay?  :D_

Strictly R-rated…XD  Enjoy your stay!

**~Bind to Thee~**

**:three****:**

Riku had to dig the nails into his palm to keep from laughing out of sheer panic.  ~He's here,~ his mind reminded him excitedly.  ~He's _here_!!~  It was hard to keep his face calm, his eyes cold, when faced with the boy he had dreamed would come.  The boy he had prayed for.

~Sora…~

He glanced discreetly through his pale hair, struck with a strange shiver as Sora managed a scheming look and ran his eyes down his body.  ~That's something I've never expected…~

Then the boy—taller now, not as skinny, but his hair just as wild, his eyes just as brilliant sapphire—raised a brow, the smirk upon his face, and said, "How about we skip the meal and get to … my prize?"

A silence fell upon the room.  Riku felt his eyes widen fractionally—~ He didn't just say that!~ his mind stuttered.  ~_Sora_?! Acting…sexy?~  He took in the outfit, the dark pants, the gleaming shirt a darkened red, the tanned skin.  It suited him well, the red and black, bringing out his eyes and the brilliant smile.

~…you _did_ tell him to pretend not to know you…~ Riku thought, trying not to smile.  The thought of Sora being anything other than innocent was too bizarre. ~He's just acting, though.~

Ithian coughed delicately, a soft chuckle hidden within the sound.  "Master Key?"

Sora crossed his arms behind his head, the crimson-black shirt stretching over his chest and gaping at the bottom.  "Well, I'm always hungry after sex," he began, affecting innocence with an ease that had Riku grinning inside, even as he started at the words.  "Isn't that what it's about?  The prize?"

~Trust Sora to cut to the chase.~

 "I don't see how…" Flustered, Ithian struggled to maintain his calm.  By the way his hands tightened, Riku knew his possessive anger was intensifying.  A soft breath and narrow eyes.

 "Yes, of course.  That is your choice, then," the man finished smoothly.  He watched Sora with narrow dangerous eyes.  "I was wondering when you would ask."

 "If by choice you mean, take it all," Sora said, his smile a touch more cunning.  "Then, yeah, I want it all.  It's why I won."

A pale hand, almost delicate by appearance, rose to capture Riku's chin, turning his face fully around.  "And you, Pet—will you accept?"

He narrowed his eyes to slits, and uttered something for only Ithian to hear.  "I have no choice."  ~Damn you,~ he thought.  ~I would rather die than let you touch me.~  He watched with wary pleasure as the ebon eyes darkened, narrow and hard, and the man smiled wolfishly.

 "So be it."  Then his gaze flickered to Sora, and Riku fought a shudder as the grip tightened.  "Very well—that settles the matter."

Riku pulled his face away from the hand, stomach tight, and struggled to breathe calmly.

 "Great!" Sora smiled charmingly.  "Come on, Iceheart—sit by me!" he exclaimed, and darted into his chair.  A hand extended to pat at the now-empty cushion, a sly light in those innocent eyes.

The blond stood there for a moment, his face closed off.  After a second of staring at Ithian with a cold challenge in his eyes, he turned, and strode along the table.  He knelt gracefully onto the cushion, hearing Ithian behind him settle down as well.  He almost shuddered, sensing the man's gaze upon him, and folded his hands into his lap.

It was the signal to prepare.  Others began to file into chosen seats, a murmur of excitement humming through the air.  After they were all seated, carefully positioned to maintain the state of their silks and fine-woven clothing, the dark-haired man raised a hand and waved.  

It began with slender bodies slid silently into the room bearing small bowls of fragrant liquid, serving them almost simultaneously in shy alluring deference.  Quiet talk filled the hall, while the people began to dine upon the soup.  A pair of slaves dressed in white gauze began to set carved meat and scooped vegetables upon plates, handing them out.  

Sora, once his meal had been set in front of him, had proceeded to ignore Riku's presence entirely.

~He's gotten taller,~ Riku thought, trying to keep his eyes upon his folded hands.  ~Stronger, too, by the way he defeated me…~

~He defeated you before…~

~…that was different,~ Riku stated quietly to himself.  ~That was before.  When I was…~  He sighed silently, heart thumping.  He felt strangely light-headed, full of some happy feeling now that it was almost over, now that Sora was here.  He was almost free.  ~Please,~ he asked inside his mind.  ~Don't make a mistake…I couldn't bear it if he took you away from me…~

He spent the most of the meal and twitchy silence, his ears keeping track of Ithian and his moods, but it only served to make him more nervous.  Ithian was pleasantly charming tonight, not terse, or angry, or trying to get the upper hand.

~He's planning something,~ he thought, on edge.  He was thankful he felt no hunger, but it was only a brief thought.  He turned his mind to the breathless wait, eyes lowered.  He felt surrounded, he felt unstable.  Scared and ready to laugh all at once.

~What about Sora?~ his mind insisted, apparently fascinated with the boy—Riku couldn't help but see the face in his mind, the smile and the familiar-not-familiar voice.  The warmth of him, the _presence_—it was a strange thrill.

~You know what this means,~ a part of him murmured.

Fingers tightened upon his legs, crumpling silk.  ~I know…it's going to be him.  I've got to…give myself…to him.~

He didn't know if he should feel embarrassed or relieved.  He didn't know what to feel, confronted with this impossibility, this unexpected and welcome thing.  He didn't know if Sora knew, if he cared or if he would agree…A tinge of red flashed over his skin.  ~…what if he doesn't want to?~  Thoughts flashed in awkward spirals, Sora touching him, kissing him.  

Riku bit the inside of his cheek and forced the thoughts away.  ~It doesn't matter, it's gotta be done.  And if he doesn't…I'll have to convince him then.~ he felt a tiny tremor strike his body. ~I can't believe I'm thinking this…~

**~**

Utterly confused, Miruki wandered through the other slaves until he found an empty container, and dumped the napkin of crystal shards into it.  ~What…what _was_ that…what just happened?~

 "Oh dear—" a low voice murmured, taking in his situation.  "Are you alright?"

Miruki slid his hands into a basin of warm water to get rid of tiny fragments, and looked up.  "Oh, it's nothing but a dropped goblet," he replied shyly.

 "Ah," Belnak said mysteriously.  His hands were arranging the next tray of wine-filled glass.  "I assume that happened when our illustrious Iceheart arrived?"

Raising a brow, Miruki shot him a look.  "Yes.  He seemed taken with Ice.  I hope this works," he whispered so that no one else heard.

Old and supple fingers patted him gently.  "Go and prepare a room.  The meal will end soon, and I don't doubt that young Key will want his gift."

**~**

He couldn't get his heart to stop thumping, his mind racing into strange random and barely remembered directions.  He couldn't focus.  He tried hard to concentrate upon the meal, upon the half-heard questions that unknown people asked.  Tried hard to reply casually, as if he knew what he was doing, as if he had seen it all, done it all.

Tried hard to imitate them without giving it away.  He had to play the game, without knowing the rules, without knowing how and why and the reasons—only that Riku had set the field.  Now all he could do was follow.

~I've found him!  He's safe and he's Riku and he's okay!~

~No, don't _look_!~ he twitched, bringing up a hand to brush at his unruly hair.  ~Ask questions when you get him outta here—just keep acting!~

~Oh god—how?  I barely know what to say!~  The sense of something wrong, of the game without discernable rules was strong.  It whispered through his senses like hidden wire, tripping him up whenever he wasn't cautious.  And he needed to be cautious in this warped place.

~Well,~ he mused.  ~If it gets bad, I can always use the Keyblade.~

~Yeah, and Donald would turn you into a snail just to step on you,~ he told himself.  ~Out of the question.~  He had to think about this, had to tread carefully and watch.  He had to be something he wasn't, this acting.  It was like feeling around in the dark for something small, and knowing there were holes in the room.  Deep and dangerous holes.

~But it's Riku—and he's in some sort of trouble.~

A soft mutter in his mind, as he took a sip of water.  ~And he's half-naked, too.~

Coughing, Sora placed the crystal back onto the table and wiped his mouth.  His plate was half empty; he had eaten without tasting the food, without caring if it was too spicy or too rich.  ~That's enough,~ he told himself wearily.  ~I know I'm going through a _big_ hormone-dump, but please—not _now_….damn freaking control…~

 "Oh, Master Key!" a woman called.  "Tell us—How was fighting in the arena?"

 "Eh?" Sora glanced up, searching for the speaker. She was a thin middle-aged woman, make-up bright upon her narrow face and dressed in pale purple robes.  "Oh, the fight?"

The woman nodded, cunning in her eyes, and leaned eagerly to hear him.

 "Well," Sora frowned.  "It was kinda easy in the beginning—no, it was easy all the way.  Being blindfolded was tough though.  Fun, but tough—I've never had to fight blindfolded before…" he trailed off, chin in palm.  "Is that the thing around here? Blindfolds?"

People were whispering behind their hands, leaning to companions and looking at him in surprise.  Beside him, Riku made a soft sound, almost laughter.  Sora glanced at him automatically, hoping he hadn't said something wrong, and found himself staring.  A flash of sea-colored eyes from under the hair, and the hint of a smile.

 "What—why are you guys whispering?" he asked warily instead, going for the innocent look.

 "They are surprised," Riku—Iceheart—replied in a soft emotionless voice.  "I have fought without my eyes for nearly four months—to learn you defeated me on your first attempt—it speaks for your skill."

~He sounds…cold.~  

 "Yes," Ithian said softly, watching him with speculatively.  "It speaks quite well of you.  Tell me something, Master Key.  Do you bring such skill to other areas?"

 "I haven't had complaints yet!" Sora said brightly, gaining a spattering of laughter.

Ithian smiled, his eyes sliding to Riku.  "Tell me, Pet—are you taking note of his skill?"

~Pet?~ Sora narrowed his eyes slightly, unnoticed and snarled silently,  ~You have no right to call him that!~

 "I take note of everything," Riku murmured, without raising his eyes.

An unspoken challenge seemed to stretch between them.  Sora could feel the tension, the hate and agitation.  He looked over with a mildly-confused expression and tilted his head.  "Um, by the way—" he smiled widely and scratched his head.  "About the gil—it's about a hundred thousand, right?"

Distracted, Ithian raised a brow.  "Yes, that's right.  Is something wrong?"

 "Um, yeah, actually…how am I going to carry it?"

 "Oh, it's quite simple," the man said, smiling faintly.  His eyes whispered 'idiot' as he raised a beckoning hand.  "You see, I had prepared a block of mythril for you to carry—it's roughly the same worth as the prize-gil—no need to worry about finding a safe place to hide it."

A slave carrying a small wooden platter appeared to kneel at Ithian's side.  Upon the platter was a gleaming blue-silver piece about the size of his palm.  Sora blinked.  "Wow, that's pretty neat!"

 "Oh, it's quite heavy," Ithian replied slyly, tilting the tray so that the metal slid into his palm.  His arm dropped visibly, but the man smiled.

Beside him Riku jerked his head up, warning in his eyes, but he didn't speak—he didn't have time.  Ithian tossed the metal at Sora without warning.  It was as heavy as a small child for such a small piece of metal, and it took effort to throw.  A dark flash of anger—the only expression that Ithian would notice—skimmed through the sapphire eyes in the brief moment after the metal left his palm.

Sora snatched it out of the air, blinking, and hefted the mythril as if it weighed nothing.  "Wow, you're right—it's pretty heavy."  He turned it over in his hands, examining it.  "It's soft—would it dent if I squeezed it?"

His eyes wide the smallest bit—strangely unsurprised—Ithian nodded faintly.  "Not quite—it's high-quality, however. You should be able to slice a piece of it quite easily."

Unnoticed, Riku dropped his gaze back to his lap, shaking in tremors to fine to care about. ~Damnit,~ the fair-haired boy thought.  ~Stop fooling around!~

**~**

Miruki slipped into the shadows once the watchful eyes of the more loyal slaves—people with broken spirits and forgotten freedom—and touched the shoulder of the elder.  "It's ready.  The meal?"

 "Almost done," Belnak mused.  He smiled sadly.  "If this works…"

Miruki shook his head slowly, his shy and quiet nature fading.  "Rest easy, old man.  This is what you Saw, remember?  The boy Key, and Iceheart—their lives are entwined, you said so yourself."

Hands reached up to pat gently at Miruki's fingers.  "Yes," Belnak replied.  "So they are.  I hope they discover this, though."

A small smile flitted across the dark-haired boy's face.  "Trust me—I don't think they can avoid it." Then he frowned.  "But what are we to do with Ithian?"

Belnak only smiled, this time a strange bitter smile, and patted a pouch hanging at his waist.  'You let me take care of Ithian.  Make sure that those two are safe."

**~**

It took moments for the numerous slaves to whisk the empty platters away, replacing empty glasses.  It didn't take very long for the guests to settle into a sense of relaxation, talking quietly and swapping stories.  Laughter was heard freely, as Ithian settled onto a large and comfortable cushion.  Riku remained where he was, unable to relax, as Sora braced himself upon one elbow and chatted easily.

He was, Riku decided, an incredible storyteller.  Not always believable, but still amazing.  In the hour spent after the meal, sitting next to him in a breathless anxiety, he was silent witness to the exaggerated tale the boy spun.  He recognized fragments that were woven into this story, knowing only half of it was true, even as he marveled at something that couldn't possibly be a lie—no, not Sora.  Not with what the boy had accomplished.  His stomach was tightening into a strange fluttery feeling as the minutes passed.

The sky was laced with glittering stars, a velvet darkness pressing against the open windows.  The soft sounds of wind, the faint scent of the warm air.  The rustle of clothing, laughter and human-sound.  The chime of glass and metal, the spoken whispers of the slaves, the soft music far in the corner.  All of this was the sound he focused on, eyes lidded and tracing over the same folds of his silks.  Focus, instead of panic.  Focus, and try not to think of what's to come.

Then, unexpectedly, a sound so familiar that is sent him jumping, throat tight.  Sora yawned, a childish sleepy sound as he was speaking.

After a second, good-hearted laughter rang out and the few voices, "He's young, yet"  and "He must be worn out—"  

Riku, blinking and smiling faintly, glanced over to see Sora cover his mouth, still yawning through his fingers.  

 "Sorry," the boy mumbled.  "It's been a long day."

Ithian raised a brow.  "Very well, then—I won't be discourteous and keep your attention—"

Riku felt his stomach lurch, thinking ~He's up to something, he's _planning _something…~

 "Take your gil, take your slave, and go to bed," Ithian commanded.  He was the epitome of courtesy, of generosity, as he waved a hand.  

 "But—" Sora began.

 "No, I insist," Ithian replied.  There was a satisfied sensation hiding behind the burning ember of hatred, as if he knew something that no one else would, and shook his head.  "There is nothing more you will miss.  Besides, I'm sure you will enjoy the warm embrace of my Pet much more."

A titter of laughter rang out at the subtle slur.  Someone, a catty female that Sora couldn't quite see, remarked quietly, "Like lying with a corpse, no response, no?"

Flushing along the high cheekbones, Riku cooled his gaze into wintry ice and glanced at Ithian. There wasn't a need to speak, as he waited, face and bearing cold.  

 "Alright, alright," Sora laughed to his right. The sound of movement, and a hand brushed his shoulder.  "Come on, you."  Thankfully, Sora stepped away before Riku could rise, walking as if Riku would follow automatically.  He walked like he knew he was better, like he was one of them.

The blond threw one last hate-filled gaze to Ithian, marking down the darkness in the man's eyes, the promise, and made sure the people around them got the impression.  Anger and pride mixed as he stalked away from the table, feeling the eyes and hearing the quiet murmurs, raising his head with as much dignity as he could muster.

Sora was nearing the open archway, his back still facing the inside.  To his credit, he walked slowly and steadily, without turning and without waiting.

~It's time,~ Riku thought, firmed his gaze, and followed.

His hands were shaking as he walked, his longer stride eating the distance between them, and fixed his eyes upon the mop of dark hair.  The shoulders defined neatly under the red silk, the curve of his spine and the shifting muscles.  He found himself unable to think, unable to notice the smallest thing, as he walked.  Everything he had was focused on Sora, and the looming question.

~Will he…want me?~  He never thought he'd ask himself that question, never thought it would have gotten this far.  Never _dared _to dreamof it…

They walked through the halls, Riku a few steps behind Sora, neither one looking towards the other, or speaking.  After a moment, passing through empty halls and dark doorways, high lightless windows, Sora paused at an intersection, his gaze focused on something ahead.

Riku looked past him to see a young boy leaning against the wall.  His gaze softened, as he saw the slight smile.  He flicked his gaze to Sora, noticing the relief on the younger face.  He wanted to say something, to do something.  Smile, perhaps, or laugh—he couldn't stop the feelings.

 "Follow me," Miruki said quietly, and slipped away silently.  

For a while they walked, down a flight of stairs and through dusty passages, into the more unused section of the manor.  He began to wonder just exactly where Miruki was leading them, began to wonder if Sora was angry, or if he had done something wrong.

~What if he's…still angry at me…what if he doesn't…~

Riku stopped short, breath tight, and swallowed.  He said the words that had flitted through his mind for the last year in a soft whisper of a voice. 

 "Sora…I missed you…"

Sora slowed to a stop.  Ahead, Miruki twisted around in surprise to peer at them both.  He stood there for a moment, his breath a soft exhalation.  Riku stood, eyes lowered from unrecognized reasons, a half-shadowed wash of soft color.  The gauzy silks softened his edges, smoothing over his muscled body, hiding the scars.  Out of habit, he lowered his head, hiding behind the fall of silver.  He stood there, unable to bear the silence, the soft sound of breathing, of turning, and wondered why he felt like crying.

 "I've been looking for you for a long time," Sora said in a subdued voice. "I almost…I almost didn't even come here…"

Riku raised his eyes, surprised, to see Sora standing with clenched fists and shaking shoulders.

 "I almost went right by here…I didn't know you were here.  If I hadn't needed money…if I hadn't—"

He couldn't find any words to speak as he watched Sora struggle.

 "I've been looking so long…and I've always—I never thought I'd see you again!" Sora jerked his head up, sapphire eyes bright, and managed a shaky smile.  "…I missed you, Riku," he said, half-laughing.

Riku smiled a slow and brilliant smile, his eyes warm and strangely soft—the sight sent a shiver through Miruki's middle—he had never seen such open expression, such warmth.  ~Riku…is that his name?~

~They know each other,~ he realized, and hid a smile.

They moved at the same time then, laughing with the strange breathless sound of true mirth, and gripped each other in a bone-crushing hug.  They fit together almost perfectly, arms tight, lighter clothing interwoven with the darker clothing.

 "How have you been?" Riku asked, muffled against Sora's neck. "You've gotten taller."

 "I've been okay," Sora replied softly.  "Everyone's okay.  I can't wait to get you home—they'll all be so happy to see you—" he leaned back, grinning.

 "I _want_ to leave," Riku said.  "I want to get away from here like you wouldn't believe, but I _can't_—not with this—" he reached up to tug at the golden circlet.  "It has to come off first."

 "That's easy!" Sora exclaimed. "I can just use—" 

Eyes wide, Riku clapped a hand over the other boy's mouth, and shook his head.  "No, not that!  You can't."  

Miruki, unnoticed until then, reached out to touch Riku's arm with cool fingertips.  "We should keep moving," he whispered.  "It isn't safe out here."

 "Yes," Riku replied, wrapping his fingers around Sora's wrist, and tugging.  "Where are we going, Miruki?"

 "But—" Sora began.

 "Shh!" Riku turned his head.  "We'll talk when we get to a safer spot…besides, there's a few things you should know, first."

~Like how you have to become my lover.  Like how we're going to get off of this planet without Ithian trying to kill you.  Like…the things that happened before…and the heartless.~

 "Man," Sora whined quietly.  "Stop being so pushy…I haven't gotten a chance to talk to you, and you're already being pushy."

Riku only smiled.

**~**

Belnak nodded respectfully as he entered the darkened room, head bowed, and folded into the kneeling position.

 "I am not pleased," Ithian voice came, modulated and slightly bored, hiding the anger.  "But I assume you knew that?"

 "Yes, Master."

The dark-haired man turned from his window, from the view of the scattered stars, and faced the elder sorcerer with a dark and absent look.  "What, I ask, do you suggest?"

 "With all respect," Belnak began softly, "Is it not true that the collar opens only to the completion of the debt?"

 "Yes, what of it?" Ithian replied irritably.  "I _wanted_ him, Belnak.  He was _mine _to take—not some sniveling scrawny swordsman! I don't care if he wears a collar or not—I _want_ him."

Belnak bowed further, hiding his face and offering the air of complete subservience.  "If everything goes accordingly, Master—you won't need to worry about a thing.  It will turn out."

A hand fisted in the wispy hair, and yanked his head up.  Belnak stared into ferocious eyes.  "It had better, old man, or your life ends tonight."

 "Yes, Master."

Ithian pushed the head away with disgust, and strode to a small stand of woven metal and glass, reaching for the cask of dark wine.  "And what of the spell to wipe his memory?  Is it completed?"

 "It is, Master."

 "Good.  I will use it tomorrow.  Go and prepare."  A soft mad smile formed on the face, as Ithian knocked back a cupful of the thick liquid.  "And work out enough for two—I have plans for both of them."

**~**

The door was shut behind them, Miruki's shadow a flickering dance from the single torchlight waiting just beyond the door.  The knob rattled faintly, and in the silence, the lock clicked.  Sora glanced around the room as Riku touched a candle to the one he had lit off of the torch outside.  ~Guess we're locked in,~ he thought, as the light rose slowly.  

The room was small and drab, the floor carpeted, the air thick with the stale scent of dust.  A single narrow window stretched on the northern wall, moonlight seeping between the curtains.  A small chest, a bed that had seen better days, and a thin wardrobe.  When Sora pulled the doors open, nothing but the faint scent of perfume was inside.  He frowned, wiping his hands.  

 "This room is really dirty," he remarked.  

 "It's been unused for nearly five years, now.  This entire wing was used by the family that owned the manor before Ithian—he didn't like the space, so he moved to a more 'appropriate' room," Riku informed softly, setting the candles in safe areas, making sure they wouldn't fall by chance.

 "I don't like that man," Sora said quietly.  "He's…dark."

His back was facing Sora as he positioned the last candle.  He merely turned his head slightly, and shrugged.  "It doesn't matter."

 "Yeah, so, um," Sora watched him sharply.  "How'd you end up here, anyway?"

 "I was caught stealing food," Riku said shortly.  

 "And they gave you that golden collar for that?" Sora narrowed his eyes.  "No, I don't think it was that."

 "It was because I said no to Ithian."

Sora slipped down to lean against the dusty bed and the protective sheet covering it.  "What else?"

Riku turned from the last candle, backlit and eyes shadowed.  "I said no, and he got angry.  I was an idiot," he muttered.  "I said that I would rather fight a hundred battles than to let him touch me.  He only looked at me, and asked what I would do if I would lose one battle—and I foolishly said I wouldn't lose."  A soft sigh, as Riku settled down into that kneeling position across from him.  "That was a year ago."

 "…and before?"

 "We," Riku said, meaning King Mickey, "found a doorway out, a world still uncorrupted.  This place.  He sent me through alone because he needed to finish something—he said I'd be safe.  It was…a week after the Door was shut…"  

~A week after I saw you in that place, smiling faintly, sad and happy all at once…~ Sora lowered his eyes to his hands and nipped at his lip.  "A week after I shut you in Kingdom Hearts."

 "Yes," Riku said coolly.  His hands were resting upon his thighs, his hair hiding his face.

Sora opened his mouth, a hundred questions raging through his mind, a hundred spiraling emotions, and found he couldn't think of anything to say.  "Riku…"  Then, his fingers splaying nervously, he asked, "What do we do now?"

 "…I have to get this off," Riku replied, quiet and harsh. His hair still hid his lowered face, but Sora watched his mouth move, saw the muscles of the jaw leap, the slow breath he took.  "I don't want to be here anymore."

 "The Keyblade will open that, right?" Sora responded cheerfully, momentarily forgetting the half-lit darkness, the musty air.  He pulled himself forward until he was face to face with Riku, reaching out to tilt the face up and examining the collar.  Absently, one hand gestured off to the side.  Riku watched him with glittering eyes, his mouth tight and expression unrecognizable.

 "Sora, wait—"

The Keyblade glittered into view with a whispery thud, and carefully, his attention focused on the lightly tanned neck, the gold before him, he set the metal tip of the blade to the collar.  "Hold still—" he warned, and turned it _just_ so.

 "Whaa—it didn't—" Sora met the gaze, shock and worry in his eyes.  "It didn't work."

Riku sighed, setting a hand that shook upon the blade.  He pushed it away, face turned away, and spoke, "No, it doesn't have a lock.  It won't open like that unless you did that to Ithian—he carries all of the locking mechanisms."

Sora let the blade vanish without another word, and settled back on his heels.  "Then," he hesitated.  "Should we go find him?"

Riku shook his head, unable to meet his gaze.  "We can't.  He'll…try something.  He's lost his honor, Sora—we can't."  Moving slowly, breathing shallowly, he rested a hand on the closest wrist, curling fingers around it.  A strange rasp entered his voice, as he licked his lips and continued, "I want you to finish this…I don't want to wait any longer."

Gasping, Sora jerked his hand out of Riku's grasp.  "There's gotta be some other way!"  He missed, as he pushed backwards, the wide-eyed look of hurt flash through the fair-haired boy's face. "We don't have to—I mean, there's gotta—" he swallowed, blushing, and opened his mouth to speak, unable to find the words.

Riku was watching him with frozen pain, desperation and a fierce determination.  His mouth was set, his eyes bright and hard, he looked like some fallen angel in his pale gauzy silks.  Sora let out a pained breath, whispering, "It's gotta be me?" and tried not to think of how the candles silhouetted his body.

 "I lost, Sora.  I _lost_.  If it's not going to be you, then," Riku's mouth twisted bitterly.  "Then it would be him—and I'd never be free."  He let out a half-sob, half-laugh, and ran a hand over his face.  He slumped slightly, eyes falling shut, and shook his head a little.  "I'm glad it's you…I'm glad it's you and not some stranger I'd have to…pretend with…" his voice wavered.

 "Oh god," Sora choked out.  "I can't believe I'm even considering this…we're _friends_, Riku!  Friends!  You don't…you don't sleep with your friends…"

~…I think I love you,~ Riku thought, and kept it to himself, his mouth twisted faintly.  It wouldn't help to say that particular thought.  The choking shuddery feeling seemed to surround him; he wanted to cry, and knew he wouldn't.  "I'm sorry," he whispered into the silence.  He watched how his hands shook, curled on his lap, a warm golden color against the cooler silks.

Sora squeezed his eyes shut against the image of Riku before him, vulnerable and alluring—now that his mind had been refocused on the problem, he couldn't seem to stop thinking about it.  Panic nibbled at him, as he grabbed handfuls of his hair and tugged to get his bearing.  "God, Riku—" he sighed.  "No, I'm not even thinking.  I keep forgetting that you've been stuck here for a year, and that you've had to deal with all this shit, and…"

~Oh man—I don't even know what I'm doing…~ the thought flashed through his head.  ~But…it'd be okay, wouldn't it?  It's not that bad, I mean—it could be worse, right?~

~I-I can do this, at least, cuz he's my friend, right?~

He exhaled suddenly.  ~Not because I want to…because it's gotta be done, and it's gotta be me and-and…~

Sora couldn't finish the thought, only sighed in defeat as his hands left his head.  "Riku," he whispered.  They were separated by only a foot or so, the bed pressed against Sora's back.  "We're going to leave by dawn, okay?"  He watched how the hands tightened slightly, the stifled flinch.  He heard the uttered "Alright" and heard the distress.  Sora closed his eyes briefly, and muttered a curse.  

 "Oiy, look," he began, scooting forward nervously.  "Riku?" he brushed fingers against the exposed cheek, trying to get the boy to look at him.  "Riku…this is kinda tough for me, okay?"

Silver hair shifted, as Riku shifted slightly and he caught a glimpse of cerulean eyes that were darker greenish color in the candlelight.

 "Riku—I've never had the chance to, um, do anything with anyone. And you're my best friend—it's scary because I'll hurt you or something and you're messed up already—"

Eyes narrowed in sudden insult, and the boy opened his mouth to respond.  Sora slid a hand up to cover his mouth, his face serious.  "I mean it," he said firmly.  "Things that we went through…messed me up, and I'm betting it happened to you.  They made you a slave—I don't want to hurt you any more, okay?"

Riku reached up to drag the hand away, eyes indiscernible, and murmured, "You talk too much."  He relaxed his grip on the wrist as he leaned forward, nudging his head against Sora's shoulder, but didn't let it go.  He let out a shuddery sigh, unable to decide if he was relieved or excited or sad—too many things were jumbled inside.  Too many things were twisted and out of place.  The free hand floated up to rest on his shoulder, warm breath against his neck, and he felt a trembling pleasure.

 "Thank you," he whispered under his breath.  "For doing this…for coming here…"

Sora didn't reply.  He didn't have to.

For a long while they sat there in that position, huddled against each other, slowly getting used to the sensation of the other body, the physical reality of the situation. A thumb stroked soft patterns on the wrist of the young Keyblade Master, hair tickling gently on the exposed skin of the shoulder.  The candles flickered, shadows jumping harmlessly, as Sora leaned his head against the other boy.

He swallowed, clearing his throat to finally say, "So…um…"  ~What now?~ he wanted to ask.  ~What do we do?~

Riku sighed, a tinge of laughter hidden within the sound.  The sensation of breathing sent shivers down his neck, making his twitch.  A mouth moved against his skin, lipping gently.

 "Well," Riku whispered.  "I suppose we should enjoy it, right?"  He eased his tongue out to taste the skin, lightly, and felt another shudder.

 "S-sure," Sora responded.  His head slide over to allow more room, enjoying the sensation and mildly frightened.  He wasn't a stranger to kissing, or to a gentle caress—but it was different.  It was Riku.

~A half-naked sexy Riku,~ his mind piped up.

~Yeah,~ he agreed, and sighed as the tongue slid in a small circle.  Sharp teeth nipped at the skin, the fingers curled around his wrist tightening absently, pulling them closer.  Riku moved his other hand around the waist and gripped at the soft material, his mouth wet and warm against the junction of the neck and shoulder.  He sucked lightly, feeling his own breathing quicken.  Sora's head lolled, a soft sound deep in his throat.  An arm slid around his shoulders, shallow gasps stirring his silver hair.

~Kiss him,~ a part of him urged.

Riku drew back enough to see the flushed face, the half-lidded eyes a deep midnight blue.  He pulled a hand up to cup the side of Sora's face, searching for something in those eyes, in the face, that he wasn't sure of.  He didn't know what he was looking for—but it didn't matter.  Sora parted his mouth under Riku's fingers, breath moist, and merely waited.

~Kiss him!~

Leaning slightly, seeing those eyes fall shut even as his own closed, Riku pressed his mouth to Sora, and kissed him softly, with light pressure.  He didn't know if he was afraid of actually kissing him, of touching that body—

But he was surprised into squeaking as a tongue flashed heat between his lips and into his mouth.  Sora made a greedy noise, his hand sliding through the hair to cup the back of the head, and opened his mouth wider.  Rapid warmth went through him in jagged swirls as he met the tongue with his own, pressing back with equal demand.  Breathing degenerated into gasping, then held in heedless passion.

When they broke apart, hands skimming over the lines of the body, Riku crooked a smile at the other boy, and whispered, "You're gonna have to be on top," before he kissed him again with an open mouth.

Sora merely smirked, as he was nudged rather pointedly towards the bed behind him.  "So what else is new?"

~A/N~  There is more.  Go a href="; here /a to get the uncut.


	4. four

****Warning/Disclaimer**  Kingdom** Hearts and it's various characters do NOT belong to me.  They belong to Squaresoft, Disney, yadda yadda yadda. I can't get rich off of this sort of stuff—but it does give me all sorts of added bonus.  ^_~  Song lyrics below are from "Speculum" by Adema. They're good.  Heh…

Strictly R-rated for content, guys—overall content, I mean.  This chapter's pretty tame…

Except for the angst.  XD~   Enjoy your stay!

**~Bind to Thee~**

_:: _four_ :__:_

_Know that I think of you  
It's killing me  
(How I feel)_

He took one last look into the room, seeing the guttering candles in the silver sconces, the draping fabric over the windows before he shut the door.  A proper sitting room, complete with a sleeping inhabitant.  Ithian lay sprawled elegantly upon his oversized lounge, the grays of his dinner-wear flowing nicely with the pale cream of the duvet.  Belnak felt a chill invade his old heart, and he shut the door silently.  Such beauty on such a dangerous and cold heart.  His hands shook slightly.

~It's almost over,~ he thought, and slipped quietly down the hall, keeping close to the shadows.

Minutes passed as he waited, listening.  The sounds of the manor, the faint hissing of the boiler, the murmur of the people still awake.  A ringing laugh, the scent of a woman's perfume.  He noticed everything, but shoved it away to concentrate.  He had only a small time before Ithian would wake, and even less time to ensure that Iceheart would be gone.  He knew his fate would be death, welcomed the thought with fondness, and hurried faster.

But the part of him that was mage, the resourceful and half-conscious thoughts, whispered darkly that something might go wrong.  He would do best to expect the unexpected.  Belnak nodded to himself in a doddering fashion, smiling faintly.  His bones creaked, muscles stringy with age and joints that looked knobby, but still moved fairly well.  He was in good health, of somewhat sound mind—

But it would do well to prepare.

~*~

Behind the closed door, a small cruel smile played briefly on the face of Ithian, before he rose.  Anger burned within him, indignant selfish anger that drove everything but what he wanted from his mind.  Belnak, the foolish old man, was trying to outsmart him.

~I see that I must activate the final component,~ he thought, feeling delightfully vicious.  ~I should have done this years ago.~

~*~

 "Master Belnak!" a voice whispered.  A hand caught his arm, and the old man looked over with a bemused expression to see Miruki's young cautious face.  Without speaking the boy tugged him into a shadowed alcove.

 "Is it done?"

 "Hopefully," the old mage sighed.  "Ithian will sleep for several hours, and our young lovers will have the chance they need."  Then he paused, glanced cautiously around with vague eyes and thoughts focusing inward for a moment. 

Miruki grabbed at his arm, struggling to keep his attention.  His face was concerned.  "What will you do? Ithian won't allow you to live…"

 "Then I am free," Belnak said simply.  "I will accept death if necessary, to erase my shame."

 "M-master—" Miruki looked down.  His hands shook where they rested on the thin arms.  "I haven't learned everything yet…how-how am I to live, half-trained?"

Belnak patted at his hands gently.  "There are other mages to learn from," he assured him quietly.  "I am _old_ and I've lived far past my prime.  There are things I have done that I am not proud of—let me die doing something in the service of others, as it was intended."

 "But—"

 "Go and keep a watch.  They will be rising early, and I don't doubt Ice will need a change of wear."

Miruki nodded, amethyst eyes clouded with hidden emotion.  He sniffed, scrubbed a forearm over his eyes. "I don't want to—but I won't refuse you, Master.  May you find shade," he whispered.  Then he pulled back, disappearing around the edge of the alcove and down into the darkened hall.

~May you find peace,~ Belnak said silently, and watched him go until he was out of sight.  ~Now for the hard part.~

A hand clamped over his elbow, young and strong, as a sneering voice laughed in his ear.  "My my, such antics you old people get into."  Belnak felt himself tense with surprise, with a horrible sense of things falling apart.  He tried to wrench his arm free. Something dark and vile crept insidiously up his spine, delving with cold ice-pick fingers into his mind—

He tried one last time, summoning all his strength, unable to cry out. It was too soon, unexpected—

But Ithian was strong.  He was younger, and as a hand gripped the gleam of gold around Belnak's wizened neck—Ithian's lips formed unheard words.  His magic was stronger.

A moment later,  the old man tumbled to the floor.  Ithian stood watching with his head tilted in a curious manner, and smiled faintly.  His eyes were cold and reflected the light sharply. 

 "Oh, get up." 

An arm twitched.  Then a foot, and slowly, shuffling, the thin arms pushed the old body upwards until the mage stood swaying.  His eyes were clouded, his expression dull.  The only indication of his recent fall was a bruise which was forming on his forehead.  Around his throat, however, the gleaming collar of gold had brightened, its magic renewed.

 "How do you like it?  It took me _ages_ to discover a way to use the collar against the mind.  I must say, it's a pity that it only takes the best effect on those already collared—anyone else would merely be…destroyed, so to speak.  But it's possible, with your skill…and I want him aware, of course.  Are you angry, old man?" Ithian sneered a victorious smile.  "Does it burn that I've taken control so easily?"

Belnak did nothing, could do nothing until given orders.  

 "I know you can hear me.  I know you're fighting it.  You shouldn't—it'll only make things worse." A pause as Ithian beckoned and stepped into the hallway, laughing softly.  "Come, now, look sharp.  We have minds to reform."

~*~

Dawn was peeking through the tightly-closed window in a single slatted bar.  Dustmotes swirled in their golden dances, in and out of the narrow light as the darkness faded.  Then a brief burst of warmth as the sun rose fully.

In the residual darkness, sheltered behind the layered canopies of the antiquated bed, Sora cracked an eye open.  He was still mostly asleep.   The memories of his dreams were vague and full of warm things.  The early dawn, as usual, was enough to send the necessary signals to his body that it was time to wake.

After a moment, he yawned, curled up on his side upon the musty-smelling coverlet.  A single thin sheet was pulled over him to trap the body-heat, and as he stirred, his waking mind settled upon two things.

One—he was still naked.  It wasn't uncomfortable—no, it was almost reassuring in a way, with the sheets against his skin and the areas of cool cotton when he stretched his legs out.  It felt nice.

Then the second—a presence of warmth curled up against his back. A body.  After a moment of muddy thought, he felt an arm flex around his middle, a hand splayed against his chest.  A murmur of sound, and a tickle of breath against his shoulders.

~…Riku…~ came the internal sigh and a moment where his heart thumped crazily.  ~Oh _Riku_—~  He glanced carefully down on the urge to see if the hand was _really_ there.  

It was.  The nails were the blunt and chipped sort of the warrior, and even in the glimmer of light Sora could make out the tracings of white scars and fading bruises.   Unfamiliar marks on a more familiar arm, hands that he remembered from years before and still retained a trace of that childhood smallness.  The muscle was sleek under the skin—Riku had always looked strong, had worked and pulled his weight to _get_ that way.  He never gave it a second thought, Riku's build, but now…

He didn't know how to feel about this, how to think or act.  A part of him was just relieved to have found him, alive and somewhat sane.  That he was normal now, and free of Ansem's taint—

And the other…the other parts of him were warring in confusion and desire.  He wasn't entirely comfortable with reassessing aspects of his childhood and re-defining memory to suit what he noticed now.  He wasn't sure if he liked noticing the golden tone of the skin, or the ragged haircut of the same silken fair locks.  He didn't know how he felt about having to sleep with him, having touched the sun-kissed skin and felt those lips on his body and—

Sora blushed, holding perfectly still.  ~We did _that_…and he's free.  I won't worry about it anymore—it's done.  _Done_.  So _stop thinking about it_!~

His mind didn't want to drop the subject, apparently.  It flashed a sensation of the skin underneath him, of the warmth of the mouth against his own and the strength in the fingers when they moved down his back—

~So what?~ Sora muttered to himself.  ~I'm only sixteen.  Hormones are natural.  Stupid body.~  His mind helpfully supplied him with a picture of the curving spine, the splay of the legs and the arching—Sora squeezed his eyes shut—and promptly thought of the sounds from the silver-haired boy's throat.  The moans.  The half-pants.

~_Stop it!_  It's not like we're lovers—it had to be done.  It was _necessary_!~  Sora gnawed on the inside of his cheek.  ~It was…just…~

A part of him was stirring into a flushing heat.  ~I'd do it again, if he wanted,~ he admitted finally, face burning.  His body felt tense, his lungs aching as he tried not to breathe too deeply.  Tried to keep still and not look back down at that imperfect _beautiful_ hand still snugged against his waist—

~So what do I do _when he wakes up_?!~ came a panicking part of him, his rationale slipping by degrees with each moment.  

Sora swallowed.  ~Like I said, it's _done_.  I can't change it, but I'm not gonna act all stupid over it.~ But he blushed when he imagined the eyes glancing at him, the smile that suited the mouth. Memories of laughter like falling snow.  ~Nothing's changed.  We're still friends, so…~

His mind faltered under his determination, and gave him a last parting shot of the act itself, the sensation of actually being _inside_ him, moving, and the almost sinful pleasure it caused.

Then a brief startling moment where he wondered what it would feel like to have Riku inside _him—_Sora shuddered, almost shamed by his insistent arousal, and drew in a ragged breath.  ~No,~ he thought softly.  ~…just friends.~__

~*~

He woke abruptly from a dreamless sleep when the bed creaked, the mattress jouncing as a warm weight pulled away from him.  He frowned as it slipped away from under his arm, but he wasn't alarmed.  It took him a moment to remember where he was—he had expected the still-cooled breezes of the night, the bright light of day—

But when he inhaled a lazy breath, all he tasted was dust and the hinting scent of someone familiar.  Riku cracked his eyes a bit, seeing a blurry tan figure stretch, and blinked.

A warmth spread through him, rousing him faster than a splash of cold water.  ~Sora.~  The arm curled up under his chest flexed, fingers stretching.  They touched nothing but the bare skin of his neck.  ~It really happened.  It's really off—~

~I'm really free.~

Again he felt the surging sense of sweet pain as his emotions tried to tell him crying was the next thing on the list, but he merely swallowed.  His tongue tasted dry and somewhat sticky from the night's food.  His body felt heavy, and his mind strangely unabashed as he tracked the figure as it moved around in the dusty morning light.  Dust motes swirled in a furious dance as Sora moved past the light seeping in, the skin lit briefly into gold.

~He's so…~

A curse as Sora stumbled, tripping over something.

~he's so _Sora_…~ was the best his mind could think of.  He was everything Riku remembered and more than he thought.  He was taller, his skin a touch darker.  His face had lost none of the innocence—but he was more of a young man now, instead of the somewhat-soft boy he had seen over a year ago.  Eyes that were still vibrantly blue, a sweet mouth and even softer skin—he was still Sora and he wasn't.  There was a casual elegance to his stride, and a surety to his moves that left no doubt to his skill.  He had the pride and power and the same sweet innocence.  Somehow still innocent.  No, pure.  Sora was pure.  

Well—

Riku grinned a shadow of his wicked grin.  ~Not _that_ pure.~  He stretched out legs that felt sore, muscles that protested moving.  He winced at the sharp wrench of pain between his legs, and felt a quiver of breathlessness.  It really _had _happened.  Skin prickled as a shiver swept over him.  His mouth dried slightly, and he had to swallow.  ~It's over.  I can go home now…~

Sora mumbled something under his breath—the sound itself deeper than expected—a hand raked through his untidy mass of brown hair and began tugging on the pants he had worn last night.  Riku watched him move, barely breathing, and struggled not to pinch himself.  It wasn't a dream, it was real.  Sora was really here, he had really saved him. Briefly, Riku wondered if he should be insulted…but considering Sora, considering his past—No, it didn't sting as much as he had thought it would. 

He had to stifle a smile, as Sora wandered over to the small nightstand and began peering curiously at a small assortment of dust-free objects with the same curiosity he remembered.  ~Miruki must have arranged this room,~ Riku thought.  Sora picked up a vial of clear liquid, shaking it slightly, sniffing at the scent.

 "It's oil," he couldn't help whispering then.  "You know, for _sex_."

 "Wha—_Riku_!!" Jumping, and a delicious scandalized tone in his voice, Sora dropped the vial back onto the stand with a clatter and blinked at him.  A sudden blush stained his cheeks, and he was visibly struggling to keep his eyes from wandering.  "I d-didn't know you were awake," he blew out an awkward breath and bit his lip.  His eyes flickered away.

Riku stretched with a tiny frown.  ~He looked away…~ "Wish I wasn't," he replied.  "Mm…it must be dawn.  Do you always wake at such an evil hour?"

 "Yeah, actually."

 "…oh, _joy_," Riku muttered, and pulled the sheet over his head.  Inside he was shaking.  Sora was acting…different…

Sora was the same, and yet—there was a guardedness to his eyes, a wariness that had everything to do with long hours of battle and too little to depend on.  The same look he saw in his own eyes sometime…But, that couldn't be right—Sora was innocent! He had _always_ been innocent!

~Don't be stupid—it's been a _year_.  People change…~ he closed his eyes in the soft darkness.  ~…people _change _and there's nothing you can do about it…~

~*~

Miruki ran down a dusty ill-used hall, a bundle of clothing in his arms, sandals dangling from his hands.  His breath came in short erratic bursts, and his heart pounded from a mix of fear and excitement.  It was almost over.  

~Just one more place,~ he thought.  ~His belongings—I have to find his things.~

He ran, absently wondering if he would need a bag, or another pair of arms.  All he had left to do was find the chest where someone before him—Belnak, most likely—had stored the small amount of belongings, and bring them to Ice.  The storerooms were just ahead, and his bare feet left no noise upon the floor.  Having explored nearly all of the corners and secrets of this manor, he had no fear of being caught.  Not even Ithian could control him, could harm him—

Only Belnak could command him.  Only his master.  Miruki smiled bitterly to himself, turning left and ducking under the dangling cobwebs.  ~Belnak's going to die,~ he thought sadly. ~He will be free regardless, and I'll have to find another way to finish my training.~  

~I'm not supposed to be here, remember?~ he told himself.  He gritted his teeth, feeling the collar tighten against his neck.  The collar.  Deliberate theft had gained him this, and a chance to re-gain his teacher, his master and friend—a mere criminal act to keep a secret…

And now it was almost over.

~*~

Sora stared at the lump under the covers, heart thumping in his throat and tried to swallow. ~Is he…upset with me?~  "Uhm, Riku?"  Blinking, he peered at it, nibbling at a lip with uncertain hesitation.  "What are you doing?"

 "What does it look like?" came the muffled voice.  The irritation, the rough sleep-scratchy voice was familiar.  "Sleeping.  It's too early."

 "But—we've got to get going—my ship needs repairs yet, and if we don't leave soon…"

Riku made a not-quite audible noise, but didn't move.  Sora sighed and ran a hand over his hair.  His embarrassment was fading to the back of his mind.  He wasn't able to push it away entirely, but focusing on more pressing matters took his attention briefly.  ~Why is he being so stubborn?~

 "Oiy," he said finally, prodding the hidden shoulder with a finger.  "Come on, you.  We've gotta move, and you're not helping."

 "…no," Riku said.

 "Riku—I mean it!" the brunette grabbed a fistful of the blanket and yanked it away. His voice was obstinate. "You can sleep on the way back!"

The cover flew off with surprising ease.

Turning just enough to peer over the bare slope of his shoulder, Riku gave him an unreadable expression as Sora stumbled back with the entire square of cloth.  "I was using that," he said in a neutral voice.  

Sora could tell he was smirking on the inside as he flushed and looked away.  "Yeah, I noticed," he muttered, and dropped the blanket.  He turned away from the slant of the back—and more importantly, the skin and body exposed—and began to hunt for his shirt.  "Come on, Riku.  I'm serious—I don't wanna be here when Ithian finds out you're not his toy anymore.  So get up!"  

 "He won't be able to do anything," Riku told him.  He was watching Sora's bent back with uneasy worry.  "The collar is open and my debt is paid.  He _can't_ do anything without causing the Council to take notice."

There was a darkness in his voice, a regret, that had Sora thinking he wasn't pleased with running off first thing in the morning.  ~…does he _want_ him to find us?~

Sora glanced at him, ruffling his hair for a moment.  To Riku he looked troubled and frayed.  "Yeah, I figured that…I don't know—he's just—I don't trust him," he finished quietly.  "So I want to get you outta here first, okay?"

 "Didn't Miruki lock us in?" Riku yawned.  He sat up and caught the exasperated look Sora shot him.  "Oh—right.  You've got the Keyblade.  Stupid question."

 "Here," Without looking, Sora tossed him the bundle of gauze that had been his outfit. "Put this on, at least."  Then he bent and rummaged for his shirt again underneath the blanket.  When he found it, he dragged it out and shook it, grimacing at the dust.  

 "So, what do we do—" Riku began—and paused, frowning.  Sora shot him a look in the middle of tugging the shirt down around his torso, and regarded him cautiously.  The flaxen-haired young fighter was staring piercingly at the door. There was a gleam of alertness that he hadn't ever seen before in Riku's eyes—those clever careful eyes.

Even with the darkness, Riku had never looked so dangerous…he wasn't the boy Sora had known anymore.  He wasn't the boy that had looked brave in the face of despair even as the tall marble doors shut him away from the world.

~Riku…~ he thought.  ~Riku, I—~

 "Quiet," Riku breathed as the brunette opened his mouth.  He stood, his face closed off from any expression, staring at the door—but Sora didn't notice. Instead, faced with the very thing he was struggling to push aside, he jerked his head around.  His cheeks flushed pink as the silver-haired young man slid quickly into his gauzy trousers.

Riku didn't notice.  He walked to the door, hearing the clicking sound of the tumblers—

—and yanked it open.

~*~

 "It does not look good," an impassive voice echoed in the darkness.  "He has gone too far."

 "Agreed," said another.  "His obsession will trigger the collapse of the Council—if he's allowed to do as he wishes, and Belnak remains within his hands."

 "What measures shall we take, then?" the first voice mused.

 "We will wait," A third replied slowly.  "He is cunning.  It will not be easy."

~*~

Trying to balance the folded clothing, the sandals and other objects gathered in his mad dash throughout the palace—Miruki wasn't prepared in the least to have the handle of the door yanked from his precarious grip.  He gasped as the wooden chest began to tumble from his arms and clutched at the overbalanced load of fabric, struggling to keep it in his arms.  Half-bent, he missed the person beyond the doorway glancing down at his ungainly movements.

 "Miruki?"

The dark-haired slave looked up at the voice.  "I-Ice!" he exclaimed.

The older boy smiled down at him, a hand on one hip.  "Hey, Miru."  Sea-colored eyes took in the fallen items, and a narrow brow rose.  "Clothes?" Ice—Riku—assumed.

Miruki managed a relieved smile, his eyes taking in the relaxed stance and the amused glint in the eyes.  He nodded, and Riku hitched at the loose waist of his gauzy trousers.  He was bare-chested and in the shadows Miruki almost missed the lack of tell-tale glint of gold around the neck.

Exhilaration spun through him.  "Ice—you—" 

 "Who is it?" a low wary voice murmured from behind Riku's shoulder.  Bright blue eyes peered over the bare curve of skin.  "Hey, Miruki!"

Riku caught the slave's hesitating expression and let a smile twist his lips as he stepped backward into the shadowed room.  

 "Come on," the fighter said as Sora edged around him to hold the door for Miruki.  Habit made the young man glance down the deserted hall as he began to close the door.  No one.  Sora pressed the door shut behind the slave as he kicked the box forward. 

Then he turned to face the two settling down upon the rug as Miruki began placing clothing into neat piles.  "Hey! My stuff!" and bent to rummage through the folds.  "Hell yes—no more formal crap!"

Miruki smiled at him, sliding a battered wooden chest towards Riku.  "Here, your things.  I had to search for them…Belnak had them hidden." A moment later he dug the sandals out from under the trousers and handed them over as well.  Concern stabbed him as Riku nodded briefly, his gaze shuttered as it flicked over Sora.

Sora perked an ear in their direction as he slipped out of his too-fancy shirt and tried not to look like he was eavesdropping.  Riku made a noise of amusement, and uttered a 'Thank you' as Sora tugged on his old tee-shirt.  

~Much better,~ he stuck out a leg, debating—and decided that the black material was suitable enough for his line of work.

 "I am happy for your freedom, Ice," Miruki whispered.

Out of the corner of his eye Sora saw the silver-gilt hair shift in a nod, the face turning his way for a moment.  Something about Riku's expression seemed stiff—perhaps the set of his eyes—but Sora couldn't see that closely and he wasn't about to turn his head.  It was hard enough trying to act like everything was okay when he wasn't even sure what was going on.

 "Sora—here, your bag?" the silver-haired teen asked, and slid it along the floor.

 "Hmmm," he glanced inside, running a mental inventory.  "Yup!" He peered at Riku, shifted uncomfortably.  Riku was crouching there as he balled up his clothing, the taut lean muscles of his legs visible through the breezy fabric, and with the sight of the bare torso…

 "Shouldn't you change, or something?" 

 "Why, you want to watch?" Riku teased, almost sounding like his fifteen year old self.

~But he's not fifteen anymore,~ Sora thought, glancing up.  He watched him for what seemed forever—looking for _something_—and felt himself blush at the direct contact.  He scowled to cover up his nervousness.  "Riku!  We have to _go_! Stop fooling around!"

A startled expression flashed through sea-colored eyes.  "I _know_ that—" he began.

 "Do you!?" Sora snapped and ran a hand through his hair.  "You don't seem to get the point—I _really_ don't trust this Ithian—He's just another Ansem, goddammit!" he ignored Riku's flinch at the name, and finished, "It's taken me a long time to find you, and I just want to go home!  I want _you_ home!"

Miruki glanced back and forth, the silence thick with some tension.  He didn't know what their past had been like—he was still amazed that they even _knew_ each other—but this unusual strain…he glanced warily at Riku, seeing the darkened gaze and the way his hands clenched on the fabric.

~Ansem?  Who was this…Ansem?~  

Sora was standing there stiffly, his jaw clenched stubbornly as he glared down Riku, daring him to make eye contact.  "So are you going to stop being a jerk and listen to me for once?"

After a long moment Riku raised his eyes to Sora.  The expression was the same as the one he used when he was required to attend Ithian—the cold emotionless face that had earned him the name Iceheart.  Miruki bit his lip.

Riku spoke icily, "Okay.  Fine, whatever you say, Keyblade Master."

Sora flinched in almost the same way Riku had earlier when he heard the strange title, but his glaring expression didn't waver, and he didn't look away.

 "…R-Riku?" the slave whispered.  "Are you—"

 "I'm fine," the young man said coldly.  "But he's right—we don't have the time to waste."  The young man stood and began to dress with efficient movements out of long habit.  His spine straightened almost automatically, as if he was annoyed at something.

As Sora made a face at the other teen's rudeness—he had the cold and disconcerting senses that he was looking at a stranger.

~*~

 "Well?  Where are they?"

A pair of shaking hands smoothed fitfully over a smoky pane of glass.  The room was dark but for a single candle whose light gleamed in twisted flickers of the surface.  Belnak bent his head to peer into the glass, his fingers coming to rest on the wooden edges, and shook his head.  "They near the gates of the palace," he mumbled. 

 "Hmmm," Ithian drawled, idly toying with a lock of his ebon hair.  "I see.  Perhaps they are smarter than I calculated—or Ice truly fears to confront me as threatened." A sly smile crossed his handsome face and he slipped the lock of hair over his shoulder.

Belnak didn't answer.

Ithian made a face of disgust.  ~The trouble with absolute control,~ he thought darkly, ~is that you have to do _everything_.  How _irritating_.~  

 "Come, old man.  Do you have everything prepared?"

 "Yes, Master," Belnak replied.  He didn't move, however.

Ithian sighed.  "Turn around.  We are leaving—_do_ try to act more like your pathetic self, would you?"

The old slave did as he was bid, turning and affecting a more 'aware' expression, but the eyes remained dull and blank.  Ithian mused that couldn't be helped in the situation, and time was everything, and smiled grimly.

Time to go.

~*~

Sora was in a silently irritated mood by the time they managed to reach the outer market.  He alone would not have brought any attention to himself, but with Miruki ducking his head several paces back, and—of course—Riku's stride all but shouting out his freedom while next to the brunette—

It wasn't surprising that people were turning to look with eyes wide.  Some of them had smiles, and whispered words just out of range of hearing.  Some were amused, and didn't seem to care.  Others were downright hostile as Riku lifted his head and glared about regardless of his former status.  His bared neck showed no gleam of gold, and by that telltale factor alone he was once more equal.

Sora wanted to hit him by the time they got through the market.  The walk was uneventful despite the tension.  No one dared to approach them, no vendors shouted their wares to them; Sora's glare and frequent side-glances were unknowingly possessive, a visual warning of 'back off' that no one was going to question.  To his discomfort, it seemed as if everyone there _knew_ that he had bedded the renowned Iceheart—and now, walking before their very eyes and no doubt fueling years of gossip—Riku was living it up as though he knew each and every one of them.  

Sora had no idea why he was so angry, just that the center of his whirling emotions seemed to be a mix of confusion and fear and a worrisome sense of danger, of balancing on some unseen ledge.  ~All over Riku_~,_ a part of him whispered.

It didn't help that he had no clue to why Riku was acting so pissed off, either.  Whatever he had said or done had turned that eerie frozen anger in his direction, and it seemed as if Riku wasn't going to stop any time soon.

Frustration stitched a line on his brow as he thought,_~_Everything is _always_ over Riku.~

They took the turn that led down towards the caravan warehousing district, where the merchant ships were stored and unloaded.  Most of the large buildlings in the area were privately owned, decorated in bright colors and tapestries.  There were only a few for actual caravans; it seemed that the majority were used as food storage.  

Sora felt lucky that he had somehow managed to convince Donald to shift the gummi-ship into something resembling a caravan, one of the rare motorized ones of the rich that had been going around.  It wasn't hard, but time consuming, and it was stashed with a little of the precious money they had left at the time.  

~That reminds me. ~ Sora paused, digging out a fraction of the mythril, and handed it to Miruki.

 "Go to Devo down by the carriage stall and tell him Sora wants those parts," he said, a hint of command in his voice.  "You'll be able to carry them without a problem, okay?"

Miruki nodded, folding the silver into a secret pocket in his clothing, and darted off.

Sora sighed, scrubbing his hands through his hair as he tried to think.  Riku was waiting ahead, arms crossed and face set in 'ignore' mode.  For the last twenty minutes Riku had done nothing but ignore the world in general.  ~He's acting so stuck up,~ a childish side of Sora pouted.  ~He doesn't act like anything happened…~

He glanced around for a moment, setting his thoughts in order and noticed a straggling group of people glancing frequently in their direction.  One of them pointed, and as one the entire group, turned to look frankly at Riku.

~So I guess he's a celebrity now,~ he thought.  ~Great.  If that's why he's acting all strange I'm going to kick him.  Repeatedly.~

The brunette looked past him to where the gummi-ship was stored, hoped his other two companions were there—he hadn't seen them on the way through the city or the inn to pick up the rest of his belongings—he could only hope they were waiting for him.

Idly, under the surface of all his frustration, he worried what they would say when they saw Riku and what Riku would say in return…Gods knew the _last_ time they had met had ended badly.

~Well, I'm not letting him run off this time.  Even if I have to chain him to my belt, there's no way he's leaving my sight!~

Again, he stole a furtive glance to the arrogant young man and scowled.  Riku still hadn't spoken to him, had barely even _looked_ in his direction.  He didn't know if it was something he did, if he had said something rude or…

~What if he…~ Sora shook his head, uncrossing arms he didn't remember crossing, and made a face.  ~Forget it.  Friends, remember?  If he wants to be a dick, let him. I don't care.~  He _really_ wanted to hit him, to scream at him and shake him until he dropped the cold veneer, that damnable sneer, until they figured out whatever the hell was wrong—

~No use getting upset.  We're almost there, and I know Goofy will want at least one of us smiling…~

~*~

Ithian had to admire the way his Pet was acting.  So cold, so arrogant—all of the aspects he was so familiar with.  He wondered, as Belnak stood blankly at his side, if the boy named Key had forced him to follow—Ice didn't seem too pleased be there, he noted.  

The look on his face was almost _murderous_, if Ithian was any judge of his inner thoughts.  He supposed it didn't matter.  He was hidden in the shadows of the extended canopies above, far from sight and sound, but not far enough to lose track of them completely.  He smiled a simple delighted smile.

~Now, who to take first…~

~*~

 "You're late!" was the first thing he heard when he entered the warehouse yard.  The next thing he saw was a waddling bundle of white and blue coming towards him, hissing under his breath.

If Sora didn't know that this meant Donald had been worried, he would have yelled right back.  Instead he rolled his eyes, rubbed his forehead and said tiredly, "I know. I had something to deal with."

Donald grumbled and smoothed the feathers on his arms in an effort to relax.  "Well, you could have sent a message—what happened this time, that idiot from the ball try to hire you out?"

 "Um, no, actually—" Sora cast a glance behind him, face impassive, and saw Riku still in the shadows.  ~Why won't he say anything?!~

"Dammit," Sora snapped finally, hands on his hips and faced the other boy fully. Riku met his gaze emotionlessly, almost amused as he said, "Will you _stop _being such a doofus and get over here!"

 "Excuse me?" Riku's reply had more emotion in those two syllables than his face had shown during the lengthy walk through the city.

 "I don't know what the hell crawled up your ass and died but you're starting to piss me off! What the hell is your problem?! I don't even know what I did and you've been nothing but a brooding little bitch since this morning!"

Riku stalked forward, both of them heedless of Goofy and Donald exchanging surprised glances.  His face was emotionless, the set of his mouth firm.  It was only the blazing fury in his eyes that gave away the relentless tide of emotion he must have been feeling as he drew close to Sora, close until he could have tilted his head and _kissed_ him again, if he wanted to.

 "If I recall, Keyblade Master—_you_ had the privilege of crawling up my ass," the young man replied bitingly.  "But other than that, I'm perfectly fine."

Sora didn't back down, even though his cheeks went a bright red and something deeper than sadness pierced his heart.  "As I recall," he mimicked, furious. "That was the only way, right? Didn't you say that? I had to fuck you to free you, big deal—so unless you _wanted_ to let that right go to Ithian, what the _hell is your problem_?"

Face suddenly white, his eyes more black than sea-blue, Riku stiffened.  "I would rather _die_ than let him touch me!" he hissed.  "How dare you!  I spent a _year_ here trying not to be raped, beaten or mugged, I spent a _year_ bowing to the whim of a man I abhor—all for a stupid mistake—I spent a _year_ wishing I had died in the darkness instead of waiting for you—" 

Something whalloped into them with a stinging force at the knee-level, and both boys looked down. Donald glared up at them with his magus staff in one hand, and Goofy's current shield in the other.  "Are you done making a scene?" he asked waspishly.  "I don't know what happened and I don't wanna know—so both of you shut up!"

 "Still hanging around them, I see," Riku bit out, glaring at the duck.  He whirled in place before Sora could respond, stalking for the alcove housing the gummi-ship.

The brunette made a frustrated noise, stamping his foot almost childishly.  "Goddamit—" he snapped his mouth shut and began to follow the fair-haired boy. 

 "Isn't that Riku?" Goofy whispered to Donald.

 "Looks like it," the fowl replied as he handed back the shield.  "It'll be a wonder if we even—"

The rest of his words where lost in an explosion as the two found themselves thrown forward with the force.  When the dust cleared and Donald managed to raise his head to see what had had attacked, mind screaming ' _heartless__! _'—

He saw a figure, tall and imposing against the sun-laced air, standing in the entrance.

~Great,~ the fowl thought. ~More trouble.~

~*~

 " 'Carry them easily', he said.  'Won't be heavy', he said." Miruki grunted, shuffling his grip along a smooth plastic container that was easily as wide as him, and minced along.  He didn't know what was worse, carrying these hell-damned parts or worrying over the declining state of Sora and Riku's interaction.

~Interaction? Yeah, you can call that cold-shoulder stuff interaction…~

He forced his legs into a faster walk, arms aching with the strain of the pieces, and hurried on.  If he didn't get back soon, he worried, those two would probably tear the place down around themselves.

When the thunderous sound of the explosion rang through the air, sliced through with the wild taste of magic, he froze, startled into thinking ~Oh, for gods sake!~

He was only a few streets away, yet, still unseen as the clouds of dust and smoke billowed out.  The stench was acrid and biting, and he hunched, trying not to cough as the clouds passed.  ~That was nothing normal,~ he realized.  ~That was magic!~

Miruki drew in a ragged breath, straining with tearing eyes—and gasped.  

Ithian stood in the center of the square, dressed in clean white linen that was slashed with blood-red accents.  The magic-forged wind ruffled playfully around him, casting his hair out in gleaming locks.  His skin was a dark contrast to the pale color, his face was benign, even gentle, as he smiled and patted Belnak upon the shoulder.

~Oh shit,~ Miruki thought.  ~This is bad.  This is really bad,~ and did the only thing possible.  He slipped the container behind some fallen crates, spelling them to ensure their security, and hid himself away.

~*~

Sora pushed himself to his feet, furious on just about every level he could think of, and swung about to face the direction of the explosion.  "Whose brilliant idea was that?" he yelled, not caring that he was covered in the dull brown dirt.

All he saw at first was the dying swell of the dust-cloud the explosion had triggered. He glanced down to where his companions had stood and made sure that they were still functioning.  Donald was raising his head, spitting out some curse as Goofy swayed in a sitting position.

They seemed fine.  ~I'm still going to seriously hurt someone…~  He spat out a wad of dirty spit, face set in a way that resembled his youthful pout—only this expression was a bit more dangerous.  "You!"

 "Ah, young Key—I do hope you're well—" a mocking familiar voice called.  "I hadn't planned on such an entrance, really, the explosion was to have been much smaller."

Sora met the ebon eyes of the slavemaster Ithian, stared with all of the pent up anger and frustration and hurt inside him.  "What do you want?"

Ithian merely smiled faintly.  "What's mine, of course," and raked his eyes down, then up again in a mocking stare that left no doubt to Sora that he was privately amused at the now-disheveled state of his appearance.

A blur of thoughts ran through the brunette's mind at that moment, more emotion than clear thought.  A single strand of possessive anger at the implication Ithian was after Riku, a boiling hatred that the man would even _try_—and a more-than-happy thrill that he'd at least kick _someone's_ ass on this planet.  Sora smiled grimly, running the back of his hand over his face.  "You won't get him," he said.  "I won't let you."

Ithian bared his teeth in a sharp grin. "How are you going to stop me, boy?" Dust flurried around him under the unseen wind, his own elegant clothing still unstained.  Off to the side a crouching figure stirred.  "You cannot match my mage, and you cannot match _me_…"

Sora grinned a wicked grin. "Do I look unarmed to you?" he said, and extended his hand, gesturing obscurely for the Keyblade.  It fell into his hand with it's heavy reassuring weight, sparkling around and through his hands as the power flickered away.

Brow raised, Ithian fluttered his hand in a mock-display of terror.  "That _is_ a nice trick, boy—but how is a giant key supposed to harm me?"

 "Easy," Sora replied. "I'll just beat you with it."  ~Until you're a twitching lump on the ground, you bastard.~

From somewhere within his robes Ithian drew a gleaming slender blade, sharp and undeniably dangerous.  A casual shove sent the old man face-first into the choking dust—the mage, Sora assumed, thinking of the rumors he garnered in the previous days—and Ithian was striding forward.

 "You are a great annoyance," the man was declaring.  "I'll enjoy breaking you."

 "And you're a stuffed poncing idiot," Sora replied, swinging his blade. He grinned irritatingly, and gestured at himself. "By all means, you freak-show, let's dance—"

He only hoped that Riku was somewhere safe, and stay out of the way. He had no desire to work around a Riku that wouldn't listen to a word he said.

~*~

When the dust cleared for Riku, he beheld everything he feared in his dreams and waking nightmare before him.  He crouched there in ragged garments better suited to beggars, in a pride that crumbled swiftly as Sora—his Sora!—advanced with blade drawn to a smirking Ithian.

~not this, oh gods not this!~

His instincts screamed of a trap, of some trickery.  Ithian had finally made his move, and Riku could do nothing but watch as the two exchanged words—meaningless noise whisking in the conjured wind—and wait.  Fingers dug furrows into the packed earth, his muscles clenching painfully tight with his anxiety, he could only wait.

~No!~

In that brief moment—where panic flared up against all of his anger and confused hurt, where his urge to protect Sora from Ithian's horrible grasp rose without limit—Riku struggled to his feet and all of his fear, his love flashed across his face.

It settled into stubborn resolve.  Sora would have recognized that look, the way Riku held himself.  He would have known that now, no matter what, Riku was determined to do everything in his power to stop Ithian.

But he was too late.  Ithian and Sora were suddenly darting into battle, their moves fluid and almost blurring out of view as their blades clashed into sparks.  

 "No," Riku croaked. "No no no—"

Sora spun into a low crouch, his Keyblade aiming for the lower legs even as Ithian side-stepped, parrying with a disdainful snort.  Then he swept out the blade that Sora ducked, and kicked with surprisingly agility that Sora caught at the ankle, wrenching the leg.  Another parry, a barely-dodged punch.  Sora twisted into series of low deflecting blows that had the older man skittering back to avoid them.

~He's quick…he's…~

Ithian bent low, gripping the closest wrist of the brunette as their blades locked at the haft, whispering something with a devilish smile.

 "Like hell!" Sora shrieked and kicked at Ithian's knees, wrenching a hand free, and slammed a fist into that perfect face before Ithian could react. "You sick twisted monster—" he spat as Ithian struggled to keep his balance and wiped casually at the smear of blood on his mouth.

 "You're welcome to join," Ithian purred.  "You both would make quite the pair on my bed…"

Sora swept his Keyblade in a tight arc and sprang forward, the deadly look in his eyes making it quite clear what his answer was. 

Riku cried out, his words lost in the ringing peal of metal, heart pounding.  He felt frozen in place. He wanted to run forward and stop them, wanted to rip Sora's Keyblade from his grasp and ram it through Ithian and make sure that he'd never take another slave again—wanted to scream out apologies and protect that damnable boy from everything—

 "I've fought worse than you," Sora ground out.  "and I'm not about to let you get your dirty hands on him!"

The ebon-haired man merely smiled, far enough away to pause and dust off his clothing while regarding Sora with a tolerant smile.  "Oh, who said I had to touch him to control him?" A glance in Riku's direction, a brief moment of eye contact that felt Riku feel suddenly slimy, hackles raised.

Something was wrong.

_~Get out of there, get away from him—~_ Riku thought in wild panic.  His mouth opened to cry out a warning, his hands reaching for weapons he didn't have—he'd take Ithian on with nothing but tooth and nail, if he had to—

And a vile cold touch slid around his neck.

Pain slammed into his mind and he arched taut as a bowstring as the clammy grip, a hand, pulled him backwards.  Words mumbled just beyond his hearing, the world itself turning and spinning until the ground held him upright.  It didn't matter—the pain was everything, a delicate burning pressure on his mind that ripped through his memories.  Laughter and a cool shadowy darkness, a presence that was both past and present, flashes of emotion and thought –

pain-pleasure-hate-affection-desire-_love_-fear-laughter-hope

 (…sora…oh sora i'm sorry…)

Riku was smashed flat, stretched and torn beyond recognition, falling in a space that screamed without words, a place that he couldn't see without being blind.

 (sora…)

He was screaming and couldn't hear himself scream, as a series of wards and restrictions flared into his mind—

There was a cry, a broken concerned wail of something, a name—it was the last thing he heard as he spiraled down out of sight, down into that wretched hateful darkness, down into the cold and absence of everything.

~*~

 "It is time," the First of the Council remarked softly. "He has transgressed the agreement of the Master."

Six others agreed with a slow nod of their respective heads.  Then, with a flicker of their gray robes, they vanished from the shadows.

~*~

Riku was screaming.

As he spun and blocked the jabbing edge of Ithian's sword, the strangled sound of Riku's voice broke through his concentration.  Riku was _screaming_.  

~The collar is off—he can't control him!~ his mind denied.  He pushed back, kicking out to give him some room, and glanced over to where Riku was, where an old man—the mage—was crouching over him.

Riku was screaming, back arched off the ground.  _Power_ churned around the old man as his hands pressed against the white-faced Riku.  The dirt was ripping itself away, the air groaning in protest as the mage worked his spell.

 "**_Riku_**!" Sora cried, turning his furious gaze back to the slavemaster.  "_What are you doing to him!_"

Ithian laughed, the sound a rough shriek.  His eyes were a touch wild as he held out his arms, hair whipping around him in the windstorm.  "I am taking what is mine!" the man declared.  "Who will you stop, boy, me or the mage?" He swung his blade in lazy arcs.  "Can you afford to even take the time to decide?"

 "I'll _kill_ you!" Sora roared in the cold breeze.  "If you've hurt him _I'll kill you!"_

 "That won't be necessary, child," a gentle and steely voice remarked.  "This is out of your jurisdiction."

In his anger he almost ignored the sound, ignored the way that he suddenly seemed surrounded by men dressed in gray bathrobes.  All he could think of was the whisper of Riku's gasping noises, all he could see was his fallen friend.  His fingers tightened upon the haft of the keyblade, his teeth bared in a snarl and his expression hateful.

He was barely aware of the sudden furious look that suffused his enemy's face, the disbelieving curses.

But his instincts told him not to move.

 "Ithian," the First began in the silence that fell.  "We have reached full consent to the removal of your status as Master."

 "What!?" the man hissed. "You _dare _to stand in my way?"

The elderly First slid smoothly between Sora and Ithian, face mild and disapproving.  "You overstep your bounds," the old mage remarked softly.  "Remove your clasps."

_//He carries all of the locking mechanisms—// _whispered suddenly in Sora's memory.

 "I refuse, you old fool—you have no power to stop me," Ithian cried in his outraged voice. "You and your entire Council cannot stop me!  I will _have_ what is mine!"  The sword was flung from his hand as he stepped back from the First.

Sora could feel the power thrumming excitedly to life, dark squalling power that Ithian pulled from the very source of life, from everything around him.  The power sent the Council murmuring worriedly to themselves, watching with wary eyes, but they made no move to leave or go against him.  It seemed to be a stalemate, Sora thought.  The Council was made of men both old and powerful, but Ithian had the upper hand.  The Council, Sora realized, didn't have that kind of ability, they relied upon the honor to keep the law upheld.

Ithian had lost his honor.

~He's only Master when he's got slaves, right?~ the sudden realization flared into his mind. ~So let's get _rid_ of the slaves.~

 "Get out of my way," he told the Mage in flat tones.  "Before he finishes his spell.  You can't stop him."

 "Child," the First somehow managed to give the impression of disapproval without looking at him as Sora stepped forward.  "You are not allowed to kill him—murder is an act we hold in strong loathing."

 "Who said anything about killing him?" Sora snapped.  "Oh, I'd _love_ to kill him for what he did to Riku, for what he did to others—but I won't kill him—I'll just humiliate him!" he ended his words with a yell, swinging his Keyblade in front.  "Do you have _any_ idea who I am, Ithian?"

The Keyblade went up over his head, then swung down into a loop and spun suddenly to the right.  A stylistic display of precise movements.  As the blade moved, a trail of glittering sparks began to fall.

 "Fool," Ithian began, laughing.  He mockingly raised his fist, the power pulsing around his arm and gestured rudely.  "Who are you, then, I you think you can defeat me?"

Sora spoke.  "I am the Master of the Keyblade.  I have sealed worlds upon worlds from the darkness Ansem released, I have fought and defeated the horrors left behind—" he paused to level a stare as his blade swung slowly back around on a horizontal level with his chest.  "What makes you think," he pointed the Keyblade straight for the man responsible for Riku's pain, for everything, "That unlocking the collar to every slave you have would be a challenge?"

Coruscating light flared from the edges of the Keyblade, a shining explosive force that sent the Council reeling backwards—but the light had one target, and it struck with a whisper of a sound on the hidden chain of clasps.  Ithian cried out in shock and staggered back, the spell he was summoning abandoned.

When the light faded from view, and Sora swung the blade down with a satisfied smirk, the loss of light left Ithian standing there motionless.  

The ebon-haired man stared down at himself, almost expecting to see his body burned and blistered, or bleeding—but there was nothing.  Ithian raised a hand and touched himself gingerly about the chest, an indrawn breath hovering in his chest.

Then he laughed breathlessly, prodding with a firmer touch at his chest.  "Stupid boy," he ground out in the euphoria of survival.  "I am _invincible_!"

Sora banished the blade with a grim smile.  "You weren't listening," he said—

—and the first of the unlocked rings of gold, one ring for each collar, slipped free to chime in the dust.  A second later, a rain of gold burst out upon the ground.

Ithian stared disbelievingly, grasping convulsively at the falling bits of gold, crying out with a raging wordless wail as they puffed into the dust like broken jewelry.  "No! No, impossible! How—" he fixed Sora with a wild stare, fallen to his knees to scrabble for bits of gold.  "You're not supposed to do that! You can't!"

 "I wield the Keyblade," Sora reminded him.  "It's part of the package."

The Council took that moment to step forward as one, each of them casting disbelieving wary glances in Sora's direction.  He wasn't sure of what they had planned for Ithian—he didn't care, frankly—but as they surrounded the man, he could hear him screaming out in protest.  

_ "No! I won't! I refuse to be—stop it! No, no stop!"_

No, it didn't bother Sora in the least.  His gaze shot to where Riku was fallen flat on the hard-packed earth, where the old mage was swaying in a crouch.  Despair and anxiety slammed into him like a stone, cold in his middle.  "Riku," he whispered under his breath, and began to run.  "Riku!  You—_get away from him_!"

All of his fear, his rage and bittersweet happiness at meeting up with Riku again, all if it erupted out in a fearsome cry as he skidded to a halt on stinging knees, gravel spraying from the force of his landing.  He pushing violently at the old man, sending him sprawling. He gathered Riku's motionless body close and glared up again through eyes that threatened to tear up.

 "_What the hell were you doing_?" he heard himself shriek at the old man. 

The mage didn't move from his fallen position, only twitched.  His clothes were threadbare, his body the skinny gnarled form of the long-lived.  He looked battered and strung out, but Sora couldn't find it in himself to feel pity.  The man had hurt Riku, had done something _horrible_ to him that made him scream—

 "Oh God oh god – Riku! Riku?  Come on, Riku, _look_ at me!" he whispered.  He pushed his fingers under the silky strands of silver-gilt hair, pushing them away from the face.  Riku was pale under his hand, his eyes showing only glints of white and his skin clammy.  He shook minutely as if he was under a strain—

But there wasn't anything _wrong _with him! No wound, no bruise, nothing in the way that would make him scream like that—

~Get help, get Donald, maybe Donald will know what's wrong—that old man's a mage, right? Maybe Donald—~

 "Riku…Riku Riku Riku," he whispered under his breath, lugging up the limp body and cradling the head.  He rocked a bit, pressing his forehead the cool cheek.  "Riku, come on—you're all right, you've got to be alright—"

 "_Belnak!"_ came a high agonized cry.  

The voice seemed to echo the knotted twisting emotions inside him perfectly.  Dazed, Sora looked up, eyes wide and painfully dry, a lump thick in the back of his throat.

~Miruki?~

From the same dazed place of disbelief he watched the dark-haired slave fall to his knees near the old mage and cradle him much the same way Sora had.  It was odd—he hadn't known that Miruki had known the man.  He watched Miruki smooth back a tendril of gray hair, wiping away a trickle of blood from under the ear.  A thin worn-out collar was resting loosely about the mage's neck, and as Miruki lifted the head carefully, the eyes in the pale face were blank and bloodshot.

 "Master Belnak!  Oh you stupid old man—what have you done? Master, please—look at me!"

~It's just the same,~ Sora thought.  ~The same.  He's someone special to Miruki…just as Riku's special to me…~

Miruki looked about, casting a desperate glance until he met the eyes of Sora.  In a single moment he took in the unconscious Riku and Sora's stricken face.  "Sora—did you see what he did?  Did you hear anything he said?" he asked anxiously.

Sora shook his head in a slowly.

 "Dammit," Miruki braced the grizzled head on one arm, sliding his right hand to his mouth and biting deep on his thumb.  His movements were quick and somewhat rushed—Miruki's hands were shaking.  Sora watched with numb fascination as the slave traced a strange mark on the wrinkled forehead.

 "V'rie T'alyn!  V'rie!" Miruki cried.  "Awaken, _please!_"

~What is he doing?~ Sora wondered.  ~What does it have to do with Riku?~  "Miruki…What are you doing?" Sora ventured.  "What—"

The old man shuddered, drawing in a raspy breath.  He coughed, spitting blood, and lolled his head to peer with bloodshot eyes up at Miruki.  "Ah," he said in a soft voice.  "It is over."

Sora could do nothing but listen.

 "Master Belnak," the dark-haired slave replied.  Tears from his eyes dripped slowly down his face.  "Please, don't die!  You have to stay and teach me!"

Belnak shifted his head into a painful shake of denial.  "I am done," his voice whispered coarsely.  A thread of worry entered his tone.  "Ice…I was too late, the spell must be finished…forgive me…"

 "What spell?" Sora whispered. "_What spell_?!"

Neither seemed to hear him.  Miruki pressed a shaking hand to Belnak's chest, leaning low to hear him.

 "The spell...  I could only change the debt…Ice must…he must…be shown…" the voice faded into a sigh.  "…don't worry, Miru.  You'll be okay…"

 '_What **spell**!'_ Sora wanted to scream.

 "Master Belnak?  Belnak?"

Things seemed to happen in slow motion then.  Miruki cried out something, the tears falling faster down his cheeks.  They spattered darkly onto the ragged tunic.  Sora couldn't breathe, his gut was a tight mass of congealed hysteria.  If Belnak was going to die…did that mean…

 "Riku," Sora whispered, pulling the boy close to him again, attention refocused onto the boy.  "Riku please _please_ don't die, don't die…please…"

Miruki bowed his body down over the prone old mage, sobbing out one heaving gust of tears.  "D-dammit," the boy choked.  "I can't do that! I'm not strong enough!"  After a moment, he pulled himself up, wiping at his face.  His bright gaze settled on Riku still clutched within Sora's arms, and his eyes narrowed.

 "Sora?"

Looking up with eyes that blinked back tears, Sora finally focused on Miruki.  "He won't wake up," he whispered.  "Is he going to die?  I've looked so long for him, and I'm in so much trouble—I wasn't supposed to show off like that—and…" he hiccupped.  "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry!"

Miruki pulled himself over on hands and knees, reaching with tentative fingers.  The Council, he noticed, was still occupied with their treatment of Ithian, but as to what that was he couldn't tell.  He didn't care.  The last thing he had left to do was finish Belnak's final spell…

 "Sora, look at me," he asked.  "There's something I have to do.  If I don't…Riku won't wake up."  The dark-haired slave wiped a hand over his eyes again, swallowing.  He reached out again as Sora regarded him with exhausted eyes, watched the fighter nod, and tilted Riku's face towards his.

Then he leaned close, sensing the light tingle of the unfinished glyph and spoke a single word.

_ "T'alyn."_

The force of the word left him like a weight, cold and heavy.  The word was the single binding glyph of all finishing spells, of _all_ binding spells.  It was the Seal upon the soul of a slave, the Seal used to control those who couldn't attone their crimes.

It was what would be used with Ithian, and what was now forced upon Riku.

Breath catching in a dry throat, Miruki watched the pale clammy face for signs of awareness.  "Sora," he said, even though the other boy was watching him with a sharp look.  He tilted the head back to face the brunette, smiled sadly through the tears on his face.

 "What did you do?" Sora breathed.  "Is he okay?"

 "He will be," Miruki began.  "When he wakes…"

Sora looked down as the voice trailed away, and his eyes widened suddenly.  "Riku?" he whispered.  He brushed fingers at the cheek, hovering over the fluttering eyes of one about to look, and waited with bated breath.

Cloudy sea-colored eyes opened fractionally, peering upward into Sora's face.  They seemed to focus suddenly, taking in every detail as Sora met his gaze.  For a long breathless moment Sora tried to tell him without words how glad he was to see him awake, to see him alive and well.  He tried to show him so hard that even if he wanted to speak, he wouldn't have been able to. 

Riku blinked slowly, eyes fixed on his face…and slowly, so slowly that Sora was fascinated by the downward sweep of his lashes, he closed his eyes again.

 "Riku?" Sora ventured, but the eyes were closed, and Riku was fallen back into his induced sleep.  "Miruki—is he okay?"

 "He will be," Miruki repeated.  "But…he won't be Riku anymore.  It is a spell that Ithian devised…I think he used it on Belnak, and he wanted to use it on Riku—he _did_ use it on Riku…"

_//If I don't…Riku won't wake up//_

 "And you had to finish it," Sora guessed.  A bitter laugh fell from his mouth.  He wanted to scream against the coldness invading his heart…but he couldn't.  He had to have hope. "Well, that's not so bad, is it?  What kind of spell is it?  How can we fix it?"

Miruki bowed his head and avoided that half-hopeful gaze, the fear of the worst shining deep in the blue depths.   "It is a control spell.  It isolates the center of the identity and replaces it with the preferred behavior. It is not irreversible…but the key to reversing it…" he paused, wetting his mouth.  "I don't know what the trigger is…"

Sora waited it the dark-haired boy's pause, feeling his world contract into sudden blinding coldness.

 "Until then...Riku will be a slave in every sense until it is reversed…"

~~

A/N -- - -- And if you are reading this again, under, dammit, a new name, there you are.  ^_^ it's really Sug, seriously.  This one hadn't done anything wrong, but apparently I have someone who hates me…

But…don't look at me like that! It was necessary!  The ending was planned from ch. 2, really!  _  And it's *kinda* cliché, really, but I don't care! *grin* it's all planned!  *looks at page number* jeebus! This was long!    

A shout-out to ALL of those who reviewed on FFnet—I saved your reviews! They mean so much!  *snugs everyone* I hope you loved this chapter too!  *giggle*  Some word explanations.  V'rie – life, T'alyn – Seal.  And, I'd like you guys to go a href=";here/a for other updates. (also in my profile) 

otay—next chapter!  Sora returns to Traverse Town, Riku finally wakes up completely, and it's no surprise what happens next…well, wait—it might be! Hee!


	5. five

**~~Warning/Disclaimer~~**

Kingdom Hearts doesn't belong to me - that honor remains under Squaresoft and Disney. They have full rights to each character, sadly.  -_-;; I make no money off this…just some twisted pleasure.  Mwahahaha. 

**Rated R for basic _angst_, and some unrequited love…kinda.  This is the **last** chapter—all that's left now is the epilogue.  Should come fast…e_e;;  Lyrics, btw, are from "Speculum" by Adema….godammed good song.**

*smirk* Enjoy, and review, please!

**Bind to Thee**

:five:

_:: If I would have known ::_

_:: I can't say what I would have done ::_

_:: If you could forgive ::_

_:: I'd like to rest with you someday::_

Sora discovered the fate of Ithian no more than minutes after learning the effects of the spell laid upon Riku.  Despite his attention being focused onto Riku, a fierce burning anger ignited into joy at the Council's word that Ithian, obsidian collar upon his neck, would suffer the fate he had intended for Riku.  The dark-haired bastard would be reduced to a mumbling slave, fit for the lowest work and regarded with the utmost disgrace.  Sora found himself savagely thrilled that Ithian would be aware for the rest of his life just exactly how he had fallen.

He wasn't surprised to find there was a part of him that was horrified at his reaction.  No one deserved that fate, not even Ithian—but he couldn't argue that it was effective.  Not when the man had intended horrible things for someone very dear to him.

All of this emotion, hatred and vicious sense of justice passed through his mind while the Council escorted the collared Ithian away, emotions that left him in the wake of something cold and bitter.  He sat upon the dusty earth, Riku's unconscious head cradled in his lap, and smoothed away the stray silver tendrils.  Miruki had assured him that the Council would wish to see him soon, perhaps even help him with Riku…but… with the rush of battle gone, his mind had calmed into fuzzy shock.  To him, Riku looked as if he was doing no more than taking an unorthodox nap in the middle of a city.  

A tiny cringing part of him was very worried.

~He's not.~ he reminded himself.  ~He's not sleeping.  He's not _Riku_…~

And he wanted to deny it.  He wanted to _scream_ out that it was a lie, a trick, that Riku was only resting, that he would open his eyes and smile like he used to—

A part of him knew better.  Riku wouldn't be himself until they found the undoing…and Sora also knew that with Belnak dead…

The reverse would be all but impossible.  Riku might _never_ be the same.

Sora ached inside at the thought, bleeding through a cracked heart as he sat upon the dusty earth and tried to think.

~//~

Two days later, in the midst of traveling through the multicolored inner-space with the Gummi ship, Riku opened his eyes.  He seemed perfectly healthy in that makeshift bunk, fine in mind and body—

Except for the missing spark that made him really _Riku_, and not just another person.  Sora could tell by looking down upon him just how far his friend was gone. He fled from the scene, spitting out a hasty order for Riku to "_Stay there!" _before the silver-gilt boy could follow.

It seemed that Riku would follow him without question.  It seemed that he would also follow an order without question.

~He's your slave, remember?  He'll do just about anything for you….~

Sora stared with unseeing eyes at the space between his upraised knees, chin digging into his forearms in an effort to distract his mind—

But the image of Riku as he slipped from the makeshift bed to kneel upon the floor of the ship wouldn't leave his mind. A Riku that _kneeled_ to him, head bowed and arms bent at exact angles to his shoulders, and a waiting expression on his face. Nothing of the old Riku…

…only a slave, awaiting his master's orders.

~It's too hard, I can't do this! I can't I can't I can't—!~

He jumped when the cargo door opened in a swish and twisted his head around in panic. If it was Riku, he didn't know what he'd do—

But it wasn't.  Only a small white fowl stood there, glaring around impatiently.  Sora exhaled shakily.  "Oh…Donald.  Hey."

The male hmphed and waddled his way.  "What are you doing out here—hiding?"

Sora looked around guiltily.  "Well," he started.  He was surrounded by crates, half-hidden under a draping tarp, and all but invisible from the exit.  "Yeah…"

Donald pulled himself up onto a crate to make eye-contact, seating himself with a finicky ruffling of his feathers.  "He's waiting in your room.  Wouldn't say a word to us, only sat there, waiting.  Not the same kid I saw in the Third District…so the spell…"

"Makes him think he's my slave," Sora said to himself. He squeezed his eyes shut and slid a palm over his face, shuddering.  Donald waited silently, arms crossed.  "I don't know what to do!" he confessed in a stressed whisper.  "How the hell do I deal with this! He's supposed to be my _friend_, not my slave! I can't—I can't _do_ this, Donald!"

"It could be worse," Donald mused quietly.  "He could have thought Ithian was his master.  You, at least, won't abuse him in any way."

"Yeah," Sora said, but his turmoil didn't stop twisting inside of him.  ~This is all my fault! I shouldn't have dragged it out with Ithian, I could have done something! I could've stopped it!~  "So what should I do?"

"I don't know," Donald said after a moment.  "I spoke with the Council before we left.  They told me his mind is there, but buried under Belnak's spellwork.  Tampering with it, trying to break it with anything, it might damage Riku…it would be best to let this run its course."

"Huh," Sora laughed shortly.  "The Council told me they couldn't do anything either…'Spells and mage-work are very different, very delicate,' " he mimicked.  "'We're very sorry that this had to happen, we're very sorry for your loss'—god_damn it…they _were_, too.  I could see it.  I can't even hate them for this…"_

"Then we'll deal with Riku and find a way to break it," Donald said matter-of-factly. "So stop hiding and go see how bad the damage is."

Sora bit his lip, going cold in his middle.  "I—"  ~I don't want to see him like that!~  But he knew that wouldn't work, not with Donald, and sighed instead.  "…okay…"

A feathered hand pushed at his shoulder.  "Go," Donald said more gently.  His face was still stern, as was his attitude, but Sora knew him better than he thought.  For Donald to have sought him out to reassure him was a sign that the fowl was worried, and concerned about this unexpected situation.  

It helped a bit to know this.

Sora finally stood, nodding more to himself as he twitched nervously at his clothes.  Then he inhaled a steadying breath, and made his way to the exit.

~//~

He was shaking by the time he made it to the small cabin he and the other two shared.  He had left Riku kneeling on the floor there, and a part of him wondered if Riku would still be kneeling, commanded to stay….

~Won't know until I open the door,~ he thought, and still hesitated.

After a moment, Sora reached out, swallowing with a dry throat as his fingers brushed the open-switch.  A swish of displaced air signaled the door's slide to the left, and he stood in the entrance.

A curious sun-kissed face turned his way, as if expecting someone—~Me,~ Sora thought—and sea-colored eyes widened.  Riku was kneeling near the center of the small room, working his way through a small and messy pile of clothing.  He was folding them neatly and stacking them within a box as though the mundane effort soothed him, as if it were habit to do so.

At the sight of Sora, however, the shirt he held fell from his grasp and Riku twisted smoothly on his haunches until he faced the direction of the door.  Wordlessly, he bowed deeply, his forehead nearly touching the clean metal floor.

Sora felt his gut clench so hard he couldn't speak right away. The fair-haired boy didn't move, didn't dare look up, the lines of his arms shivering.  Sora stood, frozen with shock.

~Is…he afraid of me?~ the brunette thought finally.  ~…is that part of the spell?~

"Riku?" he whispered.  His hands were fidgeting uselessly against the hem of his shirt, tugging and folding.  ~What do I do? How do I talk to him?~  Riku didn't move—instead, with the sound of Sora's voice he flinched, pressing closer to the floor.

~What did I do?~ Sora thought in bewilderment.  ~He _is_ afraid of me…~

"Riku…get up, Riku.  I…" he watched the boy pause.  "W-what's wrong?"  ~Is it because I ran off?~

Riku pushed himself down even further, eyes downcast, and didn't respond.  

"Answer me!" Sora cried.  "Why are you afraid of me! What did I do?"

Riku whispered something that the brunette could barely hear.  "…displeased you, master."

~no…nonono…~ Sora felt his hands tighten so hard upon the hem of his shirt it threatened to rip.  "W-what? No!"  ~Okay, okay, calm down—~ the boy thought, trying hard to keep his heart from falling through the floor.

It took him two tries to get his voice to work without the tremor. "You didn't—I mean, you haven't displeased me.  And stop bowing! You don't have to bow to me!"

~He has to follow my orders, right?~ Sora thought in alarm. ~So I can order him to stop doing that, right?~

It was apparently so.  

Riku straightened slowly, not quite shaking but not quite calm, and sat with his feet tucked under him, his back straight and face resolutely turned towards the floor. "Yes, master," he murmured.

Sinking to the floor with his back against the door, Sora rubbed a hand over his face.  "Look…I'm not going to hurt you or yell at you. I just…I just want…" 

~I want you back!~

Sea-colored eyes flickered at him when he sighed. "Master?" Riku ventured.  

~…but it's not you anymore…~

Sora finally cracked his eyes open and peered at him, exhaling slowly. "Don't call me that, please," he whispered painfully.  "I want you to call me Sora."

Riku ducked his head into a half-bow. "Of course, ma…Sora.  I will address you properly."

"Okay…" Sora breathed.  ~Now what?~

Riku gave him one of those quick darting glances from behind his hair, the twitch of his fingers and the mild press of his lips indicating that he was curious about something.

"You can talk if you want.  I mean, ask if you have a question," Sora said after waiting several minutes.  "I…I want you to tell me what you think, okay?"

There was a tiny nod, and Riku smoothed the jeans over his knees. "S-Sora…do you have other rules for me to follow?" he whispered in a tiny voice.  "I want you to be pleased with me."

~I…I'm so tired,~ Sora thought absurdly.  "Don't call me Master, don't bow to me…um, I want you to be honest and tell me what you think no matter what….but that's about it…if I think of something else, I'll let you know…"

Again, Riku darted an uncertain glance at him.  "Then…what are my duties, m—Sora?"

~Duties? I have to give him stuff to do, too?~ Sora blinked.  "Like, cleaning? Or cooking?" 

Riku nodded slowly.  "Is that what you'd like?"

"No, no—um.  Well.  I don't know," the brunette whispered.  "Uh…what sort of things do slaves do?"

Riku inhaled slightly, a tiny line of concentration furrowed his brow, and began to recite,  "A slave must obey all orders, wishes, desires of the Master. A slave, if ordered, should be able to provide every possible care and must _never_ raise a hand against their master.  A slave must always speak in soft tones, and must never look the Master in the eye, for it is forbidden.  A slave is less than nothing compared to the Master, and such actions are condemned.  Above all things, a slave is not equal."

~Good god….~ Sora thought in disbelief.  ~If I tell him to kill himself, he will! If I…if I tell him _anything_…he'll do it…~

Sky-blue eyes narrowed with the realization.  "I want you to forget that," Sora stated.  "That is not how I want you to behave.  Am I clear?"

"M-Master?" Riku breathed, suddenly terrified.  "Then how—"

"I want you to call me Sora!  I want you to not be frightened of me and I want you to look me in the eye and not be afraid to laugh and tell me what you're thinking and—" Sora exhaled again, shaking.  "I don't care if you clean or cook or whatever, if it makes you feel better—just…I want you to…"

~To what?~ he asked himself, trailing off.  ~I don't even know what I want from him!~

"Well, the rest we'll work out later…"   He looked up to see wide sea-green eyes staring at him, an expression of consternation and surprise flashing in their depths.  "Is that okay with you?"

It took Riku a long time to muster the courage to nod, slightly.  Sora smiled at him, bittersweet and empty inside, and wondered what he was supposed to do next now that the basics were established.  

~//~

Two days later they docked the Gummi ship into the Traverse exit dock and stepped through the doors.  An uneasy feeling of skewed normalcy had settled down around them, making everyone jumpy and cross as they tried to keep their act up.  Sora tried hard to ignore it, tried hard to think of more positive things and not on the way Riku was so _quiet_ now.  He looked past the entrance, taking in the bright and almost painful array of lights, the half-shouted words of people and the general city noise.

Traverse town was never a quiet place.  There were too many people in one place, too many things to do and not enough time in the day to get it all done. The people varied their hours of the day and it always seemed busy, always lively and active with recent travelers and unfamiliar faces.  Business, food, pursuit of pleasure to erase the nightmares—no, Traverse town was never quiet.

Sora glanced behind him to see Riku standing nervously, a hidden awe in his eyes as he stepped through the doors and took in the surroundings.  In his controlled memories he had known nothing but the desert, nothing but the heat and the sands, and Sora could guess all to well at his surprise.  He wondered, idly, if the real Riku would have been as awed as this one.

If the real Riku had been as awed as he was during those first few days, discovering it really _was _a different world.

~Maybe Merlin can help us,~ he thought with a trickle of doubt. ~But…if those other mages couldn't…what can he do?~

"Come on," Donald muttered from behind him, and shouldered his way through.  "You're in the way and I'm hungry.  Stop standing around like fools, and move."

Sora blinked, realized with a cold shiver that he had been staring pensively over his shoulder at the silver-gilt boy for sometime.  "Yeah, um, yeah.  Let's go," he said, pulling his gaze away and rubbing his neck awkwardly.

They moved into the bustle and quiet energy of the people, past the doors leading to the Third District and the small cozy inn, past the gold-lit shop windows and the people standing at the walls.  No one spoke when Donald took the lead.  Sora slipped back beside Goofy, and despite himself, noticed how Riku kept almost exactly one meter between them no matter how often Sora switched his pace.  The boy carried a bag in his hands, something Sora hadn't thought about at the time; Riku's actions had made it clear that he wouldn't shirk any duty he thought was necessary.  Sora didn't have the heart to tell him it was pointless.

A part of him had loosened to see the tiny hint of a smile on Riku's face when he had appeared with the bag.

The group had moved past the flowered square and up to the stairs that led to Cid's shop when the last thing Sora expected to happen—something he had accounted on far in the future—actually happened.

A high and surprised voice called his name, familiar and a touch more mature than his memories gave credit for. "Sora?"

The Keywielder looked up automatically, and his eyes fell upon a slim and pretty redhead perched at the top of the steps just to the right of the building.  She seemed stunned to see him, one hand pressed to the brick in a steadying effort.

"Kairi?" he said, feeling suddenly horribly numb.  "Kairi, what are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," she said, smiling, eyes fixed only on him.  Then she was flying down the stairs with a laugh and open arms.  "Sora—you stupid bum, where have you been?"

~Riku, what about Riku?~ Sora thought in panic.  He didn't have time to look around before the girl was in his arms, hugging tightly.  He wondered, as he hugged back, what she would say when she saw him.  What _everyone_ would say when they saw him.  

"Sora?" Kairi questioned when he didn't respond as quickly as normal. "Are you okay?"

~Don't worry about it now…~ Leaning back, he smiled down at Kairi.  "I've been busy," he answered tiredly.  "You _know_ that."

"But you stayed away so _long_ this time," the girl chided.  "I _know_ you're trying to find Riku and the King, but who's going to look after you?" she laughed, hands squeezing his arms.  "But I forgive you—I'm just glad you're back!"

~Shit,~ Sora thought distinctly.  "Kairi, I—" he began.  Then he took a breath, shoving away the thought ~Are you going to tell her what you did? Tell her how you freed him?~ and swallowed.  "Kairi, I found him.  He's here…but he's…"

The redhead regarded him oddly, hesitant dawning recognition in her eyes.  "Sora…what are you…"

Then she looked past him at a flicker of movement and her eyes widened.

"He's not Riku," the brunette whispered finally, uselessly.

Kairi gasped, moving in a halting jerky way as if she wanted to run to the boy waiting several feet away but couldn't make herself move.  "Riku," she breathed.  A hand fluttered around her throat.

Sora turned his head to watch her step forward.  "Wait, Kairi—" but she didn't seem to hear him.  He watched her take a second step in Riku's direction, a Riku that stood there with eyes averted and hands clasping the bag nervously.  The other boy was carefully keeping his body still, peeking out from behind the curtain of his hair.

"Riku, it's _you_, isn't it? Riku?" the girl took a step further.

~Not here, not in this place, it's not supposed to be here!~ Sora thought painfully.  He caught at her arm before she could move past him.  "_Kairi_," he said forcefully, voice catching.  "Stop it, it's not…it's not _our_ Riku."

~…not mine…~

Large blue eyes peered at him as Kairi glanced back, sending daggers of pain deep into his heart at the confusion there.  "I don't understand," she said slowly.  "What are you saying?"

"Something happened," Sora hedged.  "But we can talk about it somewhere else…please Kairi!" he whispered.

"No, what's going on? What's wrong—" she frowned terribly and stared at him.  "What's _wrong_ _with Riku_? Sora, _answer_ me!"

Sora let her shake him with her fists twisted in his shirt. He knew he looked guilty and pained and forced out the words.  "Kairi, _please_.  Can we take this inside?"

In response to his words she gave him a stubborn look he knew too well and opened her mouth—but Sora couldn't let her start.  ~Not _here_,~ he thought.  He scowled, turning on his heel and cut her off as he brushed past. 

"Sora!" she cried angrily, when he got no more than three steps.

Freezing into place, Sora had to force himself not to turn and look back.  Tension crackled soundlessly around him—and then he spoke.  "Riku. Go and wait with Donald."

Kairi glanced over to see Riku edge past her, murmuring "Yes, Sora," and carefully looking at the floor in front of him.  He trotted up the stairs past Sora and disappeared around the corner.

After he was gone, Sora slumped in place with a weary sigh, somehow giving off a broken sense while managing to still stand.  "Kairi…"

She darted forward, grabbing his arm and pulling him around to look him in the face.  "Tell me what's going on!" she insisted.  "That's Riku, right? What's _wrong_?"

Shaking his head, Sora closed his eyes.  "…it's Riku.  It _is_ him.  But…it's not.  He's got this spell on him and it's all my fault…and I was so _mad_ at him—but now he's…"

Kairi let her arm fall away as Sora's voice slipped a notch, and she saw the tears gathering in his eyes.

"Oh, Kairi…I don't know what to do…he's been spelled to be my _slave_…"

~//~

Leon eyed the quiet silver-gilt boy seated discreetly in the corner.  Despite his probing glances and repeated deliberate movements—a moment of pacing, crossing his arms and clearing his throat—the boy refused to respond.  Leon crossed his arms and frowned, determined to keep the upper hand and maintain the one-sided stare.

Finally, exasperated, the dark-haired man asked "Who's that?"

The duck raised his head and waved a piece of bread.  "That's Riku."

Leon raised a brow and tilted his head to the side.  "Riku…as in _that_ Riku? As in the one Sora's after?"

Donald nodded and smacked Goofy's hand away from his plate. "That's right.  We found him on the desert world."

Leon eyed the boy again, noting the edged silence and waiting posture.  He could tell that the boy was aware of everything around him…just unresponsive.  Sea-colored eyes didn't rise from the floor, and despite any questions Leon could ask, he had the suspicion Riku wouldn't answer.    The taller man frowned, and ran a hand through his hair.  "So what's wrong with him?"

Donald and Goofy exchanged a look before the fowl said, "Well, Sora'll have to explain that."

"And where is—"

Someone shouted outside the door, a scraping angry sound.  "—don't care if you _do _believe that! It's a lie—_it's just not possible_!"

The door slammed open and Kairi strode through, her face red and tear-streaked.  She glanced about in a furious and hysteric way. 

"Kairi!" another called, angry and helpless.  Leon recognized Sora's voice amid the door cracking against the wall.  "Don't you _dare_—"

She ignored him, her eyes falling on Riku, and she hitched a breath.  "Riku!" she cried, walking to him so quickly that she stumbled and fell to her knees in front of him.  The boy flinched but didn't raise his head, even as she raised hands to touch him.

"Riku, look at me!" Kairi commanded, but the other boy only turned his face away.  "Tell me it's not true—it's all a joke, right? Riku?"

Sora appeared in the doorway, hugging himself and staring inside as Kairi tried to make Riku look her way.  The brunette clenched his jaw when he saw where she was before meeting Leon's gaze with agonized eyes.

"Riku, _please_—it's all a joke—you're not really—you're not really his—" Kairi clasped him by the upper arms, forcing his pale face to hers.  He regarded her uneasily with his lower lip caught between his teeth, and flickered a glance to Sora as if to check that it was okay to do so.

"Would someone tell me what's going on?" Leon remarked.  "Before _everyone_ starts to cry?"

Sora entered the room and shut the door.  No one spoke as the Keywielder sighed and sank into the nearest chair, setting his head down on his arms.  Kairi sat back on her haunches, wiping her face with shaking hands.

Riku moved for the first time since his arrival, standing to slide past the girl.  He knelt next to Sora, his hands moving effortlessly to put a glass of water and a bowl in front of Sora.  Then he leaned to ladle stew into the dish, sliding a plate of bread near Sora's right hand.  He moved without words, without asking a single thing.

Everyone watched with expressions of various disbelief and shock.  Donald shook his head sadly in the corner of his vision when Sora opened his eyes.  Kairi gave a muffled breathless gasp behind him as Riku sank back into his kneeling position, head bent and waiting.

"Thank you, Riku," Sora replied wearily.  "Go ahead and eat—I know you're hungry."

"Sora?" Leon replied cautiously, as Riku nodded and reached for his own bowl.  "What the hell happened?"

The brunette cleared his throat, and began to speak.  He told them in a muffled voice about the Tournament.  About fighting blindfolded and defeating Riku without knowing it was him.  He explained what he knew of the slave system, of Ithian's corruption.  He gave a detailed version of the banquet, and seeing Riku walk down the stairs.  He talked about Miruki's help and the mage Belnak, and the final terrible fight where Riku's mental enslavement had occurred.  

For a long time after he finished speaking there was silence.  Sora drew in a breath, tasting dust and stew and watched Riku set his empty bowl upon the table.  Riku didn't seem conscious of the fact that Sora had been talking about him.  There was no recognition in his sea-colored eyes at the names or descriptions.

"So…what do we do?" Kairi spoke tremulously.  "How do we fix him?"

Sora closed his eyes against the glance that Riku threw him, against the smile in his alien expression.  "I don't know yet," he replied.  "I just…don't know…"

~//~

It took about eight days for everyone to come to terms with Riku's state of mind and just exactly what it meant when his devotion to Sora was obvious and the fact that there wasn't anything to be done.  They stopped asking Sora if he was okay and Sora, in return, stopped hiding in his room.  After the ninth day Kairi managed put aside her perpetual misery and speak to Riku, growing slowly attached to him, this new Riku who was quiet and introverted.

Sora, upon noticing this, couldn't decide if he was jealous of her ability to adapt, or just jealous of her.  No one really knew how _intimate_ he had been with Riku before all of this—and he wasn't going to tell them.  It wasn't something to be shared, or shown.

He wasn't even sure of what it _had been, back in that dusty room with its tentative pleasure._

But he couldn't quite admit to himself that it bothered him to see Kairi talking to Riku in gentle tones, helping him with the minor chores he set for himself and being the odd companion—Riku didn't seem to mind it at all—but…Sora didn't know _why_ he was bothered.  The sight of Riku smiling to Kairi became superimposed over a memory of the old Riku rolling his eyes.  It was too difficult for him to stop comparing the old Riku with the new one, and tallying up the difference. Seeing the two of them bend their heads together for a private talk…it hurt him, seemed false and _wrong_ to him..  

~It used to be me sitting like that, talking privately…~

~I'll never be able to do that…not unless I find out a way to fix him…~

~//~

On the ninth day Sora discovered why his clothes were turning up cleaned and mended, and why there was breakfast ready every morning, no matter the time he woke.  

It took him an hour of carefully constructed orders—instructions that wouldn't contradict anything else he had said—to make sure that Riku stopped slipping out of his bed during the night to follow other hidden impulses.

By the end of the hour Sora was shaking, and left the room before he could finish his last sentence when Riku slipped to his knees, bowing and whispering apologies.  

A flash of the old Riku was whispering through his memories, laughter and bright wicked smiles as if to mock him, to mock what Riku had become…It disappeared only after Sora ventured through the Third district in search of distraction.

Without it, he knew he'd be screaming.

~//~

Twelve days after their return, when Sora was to the point where he was finally finding his balance between orders and requests, of asking and trying not to fall into the ease of having someone there to _do everything—he heard a polite knock on the door and a voice asking, "Sora, can I talk to you for a bit?"_

Craning his head to look over his bare shoulder, Sora saw Kairi leaning on the edge of the doorway. He shrugged and slipped the shirt over his head to finish dressing.  "Sure, Kairi.  What's up?"

Her eyes flickered to where Riku was seated, folding clothes and to all appearances ignoring them, and her lips thinned.  Her eyes looked dark and regretful, but determined.  Sora recognized that look and felt a funny sort of dread hit his middle, clogging his throat.

"Sora…can I talk to you _alone_?" she repeated, emphasizing her words with a frown.

The brunette raised a brow at that, and shrugged again.  "Not a problem.  Riku—would you go and sit outside until we're done?"

"Yes, Sora," Riku replied instantly, smiling.  He set the folded shirt away in the small drawer.  A moment later he rose, nodding a polite hello to Kairi, and vanished into the hall.  

"So what's up?" Sora repeated when he was sure Riku was a good distance away.

Kairi edged into the room and folded her arms, the door shutting behind her.  "It's been about two weeks, Sora.  Have you figured out what you want to do about Riku?"

~…it's one of _those_ talks,~ Sora thought tiredly and stopped himself from making a face.  "You know as well as I do that it's not that easy, Kairi."

"No, but at least I'm not _treating him like a slave!" the redhead exclaimed, unexpectedly.  "I've __seen you—you're ordering him around and not even caring that it's Riku! Our _friend!_  You haven't even __tried to look for a way to fix him, have you!?"_

Sora was too appalled at her words to register the gleam of tears in her eyes.  He gaped at her, blinking.  ~I'm…treating him like a slave?~  "That's not true," he whispered. "Kairi, you know that's not true!"

"Isn't it?!"

"No!" Sora made a sound of frustration and tugged at his hair. "Dammit, Kairi, I can't believe this!"

"Maybe you don't even realize it, but I see it all the time!" Kairi said.  She glanced at him with something akin to pity, crossing her arms over her blouse and sighing. "Look, Sora…I know it's hard…but all I've seen is Riku jumping to do your bidding…I didn't _want _to bring this up, but he's my friend too!"

Sora stared at her, unable to recognize her in that moment.  "Would you listen to me for a minute?  I'm _not thinking Riku's better off as a slave! I want him back more than anyone, Kairi, you _know _that!"_

~Tell her why…tell her _why_…~

She didn't meet his eyes.  "I don't know you anymore, Sora," Kairi replied in a whisper.  "You've changed."

"Oh, for god's sake," Sora muttered.  ~There's nothing I can say when she's in a mood like this…~  

He sighed, turning away from her to start the hunt for his socks. "Alright, alright!  I won't treat him like a slave, okay?  I'll be extra nice and everything…just…go do something for a while and leave me alone…"

"Do you promise?" Kairi replied.  "I want your word, Sora."

"I promise," Sora spat obligingly, feeling the words dust themselves on his tongue and fall flat on the air.  She didn't appear to notice his tone.

~_Tell_ her…~

"Okay.  I'll hold you to that…" the redhead smiled faintly.  Without another word she turned and opened the door, slipping outside.  

Sora sighed and fell flat onto the bed.  "Why me?" he muttered, and covered his face with a pillow.  

~//~

The thirteenth day was nothing but a nerve-wracking hell, as Sora avoided everyone and tried to keep Riku sitting down and resting for once to keep Kairi off his back.

It didn't work, he discovered, when Riku began to watch him with uneasy eyes.  When Riku finally snapped back into a full-slave mindset and dropped to his knees during dinner, Sora disappeared into the shadows of the Third district until the clock spat out a time of 11:16 a.m., a full four hours after he had walked out the door.

When he came back, exhausted and dirty, Riku was waiting next to his bed, asleep and kneeling.

~//~

Fifteen days after they had returned to Traverse town, Sora found himself on the roof of the shop, staring up through the smog of light to the stars beyond, mystified as how they managed to twinkle on despite everything.  He didn't know how long he had been there, comfortably lodged between the slant of the roof and the wide chimney.  It was quiet and somehow a step away from everything, even though it was merely twenty feet up or so…it felt far away.  That was all that mattered.

~…what am I going to do about Riku?~ a thought insisted to the distant Sora.  ~You can't just let him stay like this…~

Sora closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead.  "I know that," he muttered to himself.  "I know.  I just…can't do anything right now…there's nothing I _can do."_

"Sora?"

Sora didn't open his eyes.  "Yes, Riku?"  He heard scuffling, and a slight scraping.  Tremors against the shingles told him Riku had hoisted himself onto the rooftop.

"Is Sora okay?" came the quiet reply.  

"Kinda…"  Sora cracked one sapphire eye open and turned his head.  "Is something up?  You don't usually follow me out…"

Riku settled back against the roof, hugging his knees. His hair slid over his face as he looked out into the skyline.  "Sora seemed…to need company."

"Yeah, well…I guess I do," Sora replied softly.  "How is the rebuilding go? I know Kairi mentioned something about having you help out…"

"The Second district is almost repaired.  It will be a few more days, but most of the difficult stuff is finished…We'll be hauling away the debris from the broken towers tomorrow."  There was a sliding glance full of a secret emotion Sora couldn't decipher.  Riku spoke, "Is Sora going to come and watch?"

Sora let himself smile faintly.  "Maybe…"

They sat in silence as Riku arranged himself into a more comfortable position, looking up as Sora did into the night sky.  He was sitting close enough that Sora could feel the heat of his body and the faint spicy scent that was simply Riku.  Close enough to spark a trilling memory of dusky shadows and sun-kissed skin—

"Sora?" Riku asked after a moment of this silence, voice subdued.  "Who is Riku?"

Staring at him in shock and jarred from his unwanted thoughts, Sora felt himself slip slightly on the tiling.  "What?  What did you say?"

The silver-gilt boy traced a finger along a fold of his trousers at the top of his knee.  "…I want to know who Riku is…he seems very important to Sora and…I am curious…"  A hesitant glance told Sora volumes how uneasy he was, questioning the Master and being so forward.

~But…_you're_ Riku…~ Sora thought slowly.  ~…and yet, you're not…~

~How do I _explain_ this?~ Sora cleared his throat, sitting up and resting his head on his knees.  "Riku…is a person I am looking for.  We were friends since childhood and when…when I got the Keyblade, we were separated.  After everything, I started going through the worlds to find him…"

Riku watched him with lowered lids, listening and watching quietly.

~I miss you…~  "He is my closest friend, and I miss him very much…"

"…I am very sorry for Sora," Riku whispered finally.  "Sora must have loved this Riku very much."

Sora closed his eyes, smiling and shrugged, throat tight with pain and forgotten emotion.  "I did…I do.  He is very special."

The silver-haired boy nodded once, shyly, and his voice dropped to a whisper.  "I see.  To preserve the memory of Riku, you have decided that I am in his place.  I feel…flattered…that Sora would give me such an honor…" 

"But I'm not—" Sora caught his words, looking at him, really _looking_ and seeing the pride, the gleam of pleasure in the eyes.  ~I'm not trying to replace you…~  

But it wouldn't do to say those words because this Riku wouldn't understand. Sora let his sadness flutter away in a sigh.  "In a way, Riku…you _are him.  Just…different, now.  And I'm glad you're here…I'm glad I found you,"  he whispered as he turned his head to catch a glimpse of a smile from behind the silver curtain of hair, his insides shaking at the sight._

"…I am glad to be with Sora," the boy replied, attention focused on the threads of his trousers. A tinge of red slowly colored his cheeks and he was smiling a smile that only Sora had seen before…Riku's secret smile.

~I'm going to find a way to fix you, I _swear it, Riku.  I'm going to find a way…~  Sora thought feeling fierce and determined and angry all at once.  ~It doesn't matter how long it takes…I'll find a way…~_

They sat there for a moment, neither able to look at the other.  Finally, Sora stood and stretched, craned his neck to peer along the roof before he looked down at the still-seated Riku with a smile.  "Come on, let's go inside," Sora said to him.  "It's getting cold."

~//~

Riku was gone from the pallet in the corner by the time Sora woke the next morning.  Flat on his stomach, Sora looked to see the sandals missing from their customary place by the door.  He rolled over and sat up, yawning.  ~He must have gone to the Second district already,~ he thought, rubbing at his face.  

~Might as well get up,~ Sora thought.  He stretched, kicking the sheet back and rolling out of the bed to land on his feet.  He headed for the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later he emerged, hair damp and a towel slung around his shoulders and clad in a pair of loose jeans.  He took only a moment to dress in an inconspicuous shirt, throwing on his dark vest and crown-chain and slipped into his shoes.  Then he was out the door and trotting down the stairs.

The walk to the Second district was uneventful.  It was a rare hour between shifts, where everyone was either sleeping or eating a meal inside their home.  No one was on the streets as the Keywielder jogged by.  He enjoyed the feeling of exercise and silence, of exertion pulling his muscles as he passed through the doors.  If anyone had been around, they would have seen the slight smile and relaxed air about him.  They would have seen _Sora_.

But Sora didn't notice any of this as he came to a stop just past the exit into the Second district, and nearly tripped over a pile of wood scraps.  He saw twisted metal heaped off to another right, and a bin of broken plaster bits and garbage lined up neatly next to them both.  Sora scratched his head, blinked twice and looked around.

~Guess he wasn't kidding when he said they were doing the garbage today…~

~Speaking of Riku…where is he?~ Sora tugged a hand through his hair and scanned the small crowd for a familiar mop of silver hair. Two blocks down there were people pulling down the broken siding, and a pair cleaning up the glass from the streets.  A woman was carefully wiping down the windows of the refurnished buildings, and a group of men relocating the scaffolding set to another building that was in obvious need of repair.

~…but no Riku,~ he thought, a frown creasing his forehead.  Sora settled back against the wall and watched the clean-up crew work for a while, hoping to spot a familiar face.

~There's Kairi,~ he thought, recognizing a flash of the tied-back red hair.  She was moving down the line of workers, smiling and looking as pretty as usual.  Sora rolled his eyes at the sight, fond and annoyed all at once.  ~Where's Riku? He's gotta be around here…~

Kairi laughed, the sound audible to Sora despite the distance. He watched her talking to the workers, noting how oddly _clean _her clothing was.  A trickle of irritation speared him.  It wasn't surprising to find Kairi providing the moral support—she had always been good at that sort of thing.

~But where's _Riku_,~ his mind repeated.  

Then he saw him.

Riku emerged from the shadows of a building, carrying a carefully-balanced pile of bricks.  His knuckles were visibly white, and his hair was pulled back into a rough queue.  His clothing—trousers and a simple shirt—were covered in soot and dirt and other indiscernible stains.  He looked as if he had been working for three days straight.

Sora watched him in shock as the bricks were dropped into another barrel, and Riku wiped at his face.  Sora watched as the silver-gilt boy walked up to Kairi, asking something.

She didn't bother to turn around and waved a hand. Riku bowed—

—~He _bowed?!~_ Sora thought in disbelief—

—and watched Riku headed back towards the building.

~That…~

~That _bitch!~_

He was striding forward before he realized it, past the people cleaning the streets up, past the people cleaning the new buildings, past the line of men tearing down the scaffolding.  Fists clenched, eyes a furious snapping blue, he strode up to Kairi and yanked her around by the arm.

"What the hell was that?!" he hissed, ignoring her startled cry.  "What the _fuck, Kairi?"_

Sora didn't care that people were staring at him or that Kairi was gasping, tugging at his hand.  He shook her with enough force to make his point as he glared at her, unable to explain why he was so furious.  "You hypocritical _bitch_—"

"Sora—stop it! You're hurting me!" she whispered, cheeks red and tears glinting in her eyes.

"You accuse me of treating him like a slave—and then you go and pull some stupid thing like this? How _dare _you!"

"I didn't tell him to do that, he does it on his own!" she cried.  "Let me go! Sora!"

Sora pulled his hand away. "Then why didn't you tell him to _stop!? God, Kairi—it would be a lot more helpful if you _thought _about this! "_

Her eyes widened.  "Well, _I'm _not the one who got him in this situation in the first place!" she replied, half-yelling as she nursed her arm with the other hand.  "You think it has to be everyone's problem—but it's not! It's your fault! You could have done something different—you could have saved him but now he's just—he's just a robot!"

Sora felt his face pale and couldn't speak.

~…your fault—_your fault…~_

Kairi sniffled, dashing away a trickling tear and glared at him.

"…you don't know anything!" Sora finally whispered.  "You don't know _anything…you don't know about what I had to do…how Ithian was going to _rape _him, how he __screamed when the old man bent his mind over…I don't _want _this, Kairi, Riku's my _friend_—not my slave!  You don't know __anything about this!"_

~…anything about how I loved him…~

"Riku was my friend too!" Kairi cried.  "You don't know how I feel—seeing him like and knowing what he _was—_"

Sora slapped her across the face before his mind registered the movement. "Don't you _ever _say I didn't love him," he choked dreadfully on the words.  "Don't you ever say I wasn't his friend…I _loved him! Do you think I __want him to be my slave?  I just want him__ back!"_

"Well, now you've got what you want, don't you," Kairi replied, turning away to cup her cheek.  "I don't know you anymore, Sora.  J-just go away…"

Sora felt something crack inside, the loss of something he couldn't place.  "Fine," he rasped, turning on his heel and brushing by the gawking onlookers and towards the exit.

~//~

"Kairi?  Are you alright, Kairi?"

The redhead hastily wiped the tears from her face, looking up in a way that suggested disbelief.  Pain pulled the lines of her face tight, her mouth pale and bloodless.  "Riku," she mumbled.  "How long were you watching?"

"I saw Sora and Kairi fighting," Riku replied softly, tilting his head in a curious way.  He frowned, opening his mouth to say something, but the words wouldn't come.  Something flickered in his eyes.  _Is it true?_ he wanted to ask.

Kairi didn't seem to notice.  She stared at him, hurting and angry and stubborn.  "Riku," she said slowly, rebelliously.  "There's something I want to show you…"

Riku nodded.  "Alright," he said, and followed her from the Second district, shooting one last troubled glance in the direction Sora had gone.

~…is it…true?  Sora?~

The moment passed.

~//~

_:: The table's cold ::_

_:: It's too late ::_

_::_ to make up for these mistakes ::__

The sun had set behind the skyline and the neon lights had flickered on before Sora realized what time it was, and just how long he had been curled up in the corner of his room.

"Shit," he whispered.  "Good job, Sora.  What a way to alienate people…"

~…dammit,~ his mind cried.  ~What the hell did I do wrong? I thought I was _helping_…it's not true…it's not…I'm not treating him like that…~

~I'm so _tired_…~

Sora scrubbed a hand over his face, removing the vestiges of tears and messing up his hair.  He sighed slowly, trying hard to control it.  The wall was a hard unforgiving coldness against his back.  Cold and disproving, but he didn't know what he did and why he couldn't make it right.

"I'm sorry…" Sora whispered to himself.  "I'm so _sorry_…it's all my fault…"

There was a muted knock on the door, and Sora groaned, thumping his head onto his knees.  "Go away," he mumbled, too softly for anyone to hear.

The door opened.  "…Sora?" came the quiet voice.  

~Riku,~ his mind whispered bittersweet.  "Come in," Sora finally said.  "It's alright."

"Is Sora okay?" Riku whispered after a moment, sounding very near.  

Sora opened his eyes, head thumping with the onset of an ache and peered at the boy standing less than two feet away.  He managed a nod.  "I'm just tired…and angry…"

Riku nodded, more to himself as fingers toyed with the edge of his shirt.  "I saw Sora in the Second district…Sora and Kairi were fighting…" Riku bit his lip, kneeling almost as an afterthought and didn't look Sora in the eye.  He played with something in his hands, turning it and hiding it within his cupped fingers.

"Don't worry about that," Sora told him.  "It happens every now and then…I'm sorry you had to see that…"

Riku shook his head. "Sora should not apologize…Sora did nothing wrong."

"Yeah, but…"  the brunette half-shook his head, smiling faintly.  ~No use arguing with him either…~

"Will Sora retire soon?  The day's nearly gone, and Sora needs to rest," Riku said.

Pushing himself away from the wall, Sora shrugged.  "Soon," he answered.  Questions and a queer irritation coiled in his mind, spiking heat through his heart.  He looked to the kneeling Riku, the calm expression and strands of the silver hair.  So close…Sora reached forward and brushed aside the hair to get a glimpse of the face.

~I _miss _you,~ he wanted to say.  ~I want you back…~

Instead, Sora pulled his hand away.  "Sorry, I—"

A flash of sea-green eyes and Riku folded his fingers around Sora's wrist, holding his hand immobile.  "If…" the boy hesitated.  "If I can do anything for Sora…"

A knotted ball of shock skittered up his spine.  "R-Riku?" 

The silver-gilt boy bent to press his cheek to Sora's palm, avoiding his gaze as the hair slid down to tickle the back of his hand. "Because Sora looked so sad…and I want to make it go away…because I am only a slave.  I have nothing to give Sora but…this…"

"Give me?" Sora tried to pull his hand away, but his arm wouldn't move.  His hand only twitched.  "Why…why would you…you _want…?"_

Riku nodded, and the moment hovered.

"Why?" Sora managed to whisper.  "_Why_?"

"Because I love Sora…" Riku admitted.  "Because…I think I have always loved Sora…"

~It's the spell talking…the _spell.  He can't really…he can't really _mean _that…~_

Riku raised his eyes to his, a hint of anxiousness in their depths.  Sora couldn't make himself look away.  ~He really wants me to…to…~  his mind fizzled on the image and Sora blushed.  ~I can't do that! That would be so wrong—it's taking _advantage_ of him!~

But he couldn't pull his hand away.

~…it worked before…free him like before…~ a thought teased him.

"Sora…?" Riku whispered.

~Oh _god_, what if it's possible?~ Sora thought, unable to answer, unable to move.  He licked his lips.  ~…I want to…I want to try…~  Sora flexed fingers against the smooth skin, feeling the hair slide like silk.  Slowly, gently he pushed a thumb in exploration along the delicate cheekbone.  Riku tilted his head into his touch, eyes fluttering.  His mouth moved in a silent whisper of his name, in adulation.

An almost need, almost love.

Sora heard himself make a sound, an attempt of protest as his other hand rose to cup the face.  "Oh…_Riku_…" he said despairingly.  "Come back to me..."

~I don't want to do this—not like this—I want you_ back—~_

The moment froze.

Sora lowered his head, feeling his stomach jumping in cold spastic arches.  He pressed a kiss to the upturned face just under the eye.  Then another at the corner of the mouth.

~Riku…Riku Riku Riku…~ he chanted silently, kissing him finally upon the mouth, tentative and slow.  ~Come back to me, Riku.  Come back, please, come _back…~  He pushed his hands through the fall of silver hair, cupping the head and angling to slide his tongue past the lips.  Riku moved carefully, shyly, against him and Sora could feel his pulse flickering against his palm._

Kissing him was eerie, something unexpected and at the same a memorized action.  Easy.  Something he didn't have to look far to find within himself.  Riku tasted like the fruit Sora had seen at him nibble on at lunch, tasted bittersweet and warm and some unexpected flavor.  His tongue was pushing against Sora's mouth in a slow traveling movement, hesitant and sure touches that seemed to ignite his skin.

~Kiss me back, come back, back to me,~ Sora thought inanely, opening his mouth wider as his fingers splayed, pulling and crushing Riku to him.  He kissed with desperate force, plunging into the given mouth and trying to find a flicker of _something even as he pushed his body forward, wanting to feel the warmth. He could taste Riku down to the churning heat in his belly._

Sora kissed him and pushed him down onto the floor without realizing it, aligning himself over the body that unfolded before him, warm and soft.  Riku didn't push him away even when nails left marks on the pale skin, when Sora bit at his lip and tasted blood; he merely closed his eyes and smiled, tilting his head to let Sora taste his skin and memorize his body all over again. 

"Sora…" Riku breathed his name when Sora pulled back to move his mouth along the jaw, sucking at the skin.  His face was flushed, framed with tousled hair, lips dark with the force of Sora's kiss.  His legs were pushed aside to make room for Sora's hips and waist, his hands tentatively grasping at the shoulders above him.

Swallowing, Sora couldn't decide in that hazy moment if Riku had called him by name or by the implicated title.  "Riku?" he questioned.  

~Is that you?~ he wanted to say.

The spark wasn't in his eyes…it wasn't Riku.  Sora closed his eyes and let himself collapse as gently as possible into the boy until his forehead was pushing against the shoulder and exhaled shakily.  ~What am I doing?  I don't even know if he _wants this—It's not going to work—this is something completely different…it's not the same…~_

"…why did you do this, Riku?" he asked slowly, digging after the buried truth.  "I know you, and you wouldn't do anything like this unless I asked for it…"

"It is Sora's right," Riku replied quietly, a touch breathless.  His fingers twined over Sora's shoulders, flexing with something lodged between the palm and his shirt, pricking him.  Sora tried to ignore it.  "And I…" Riku yawned quietly, head tilting against Sora's.

"I don't want this because you're a slave," Sora whispered minutes later, mustering the courage and sliding through the pain.  "I _love_ you.  I want you back, Riku…I don't want you to be a slave…I just want you back…"

Riku didn't reply.

The moment passed, leaving behind an empty sort of sound as Sora pushed up, the arms falling away.  For a moment he looked down upon the closed eyes, the flushed face and bite-marks on the neck.

~Asleep…?~ Sora wondered.  ~He's asleep…he must have been working so hard...~  Sora sighed, licking his lips absently, tasting a sweetness and a tang of copper.  He ran a hand gently over the hair, smoothing it and pressed a kiss to the forehead.  "Damn you," he said fondly.  

It took him a careful minute of maneuvering to hoist Riku into his arms and lay him on the bed.  "Rest well…" he whispered, gathering the nerve to kiss him gently.  Riku curled up into the softness like a cat, his loosely-closed fists up under his chin.  

Sora sat there, watching him sleep for what seemed like hours, but it was only seconds.

Then he stood and gathered his things, slipping on his shoes and yanking on the dark vest.  At the door he stopped to look back at the sleeping Riku, whispering "I'll be back, I promise." to the silence.

Then he was gone.

~//~

Kairi came into the room just after dawn, intent on apologizing, looking stressed and rumpled from a poor sleep.  "Sora…are you in here?"

Sora wasn't there.

She bit her lip when she saw Riku curled up on the bed, oblivious.  "Riku," she whispered, moving close enough to sit on the edge of the bed.

He didn't stir.  She brushed his shoulder and glanced around the room, noting that Sora's shoes and the small travel bag he used were gone. Dreadful worry stabbed her sharply.  "Riku, wake up!" she shook him by the shoulder.

Riku moved nothing but his hands, tightening them into fists with a sound of crackling, and didn't wake.

Upon a closer look she ran careful fingers over the wrists and discovered the source of the noise.  A photograph, crumpled and torn and faded.  Three faces smiled for the camera, with a backdrop of sun and sky and beach.

Her photograph, the only thing from home, and the very one she had shown to Riku.

~He's gone,~ she thought irrationally, knowing it was true.  "…what have you done?" she whispered to herself.  "Sora, what have you done?"

~//~

Sora didn't return.  Two days later, with Riku still in his odd sleep, Kairi received a hastily written note from Leon in Sora's still-childish writing.

_Will you take care of Riku? I've got to go, I'm sorry—got a lead on Mickey. I'll be back, I swear…make sure he's okay, will you?  I don't think he'd understand it…_

_Thank you, Kairi. I'm sorry._

_S._

"What…?" she questioned, staring at it.  "Where did you get this?"

Leon shrugged.  "Found it in the castle when I was doing rounds.  Any idea what it means?"

"It means he might not be back for a while," Kairi replied.  "Dammit, Sora, we _need _you here…"

"What are you going to do, then?" Leon asked.  "Are you going to stay here?"

"I don't know…" she whispered, nibbling on a nail.  She glanced through the doorway to where Riku was sprawled out on the bed still, covered with a sheet, and shifted in place. 

With instincts warring between not telling Sora and doing the 'Right Thing' it took seconds for her to decide.  "Leon…can you give us a ride?"

~//~

Five days later Riku woke in the shade, the sound of an ocean a whispering roar on the edge of his hearing, the sand gritty and hot under his legs.

He sat up, dizzy and confused, and looked around. "…Sora?" he rasped.

But Sora wasn't there.

~end~

(a/n - no, wait!! there'll-be-an-epilogue-so-don't-kill-me-please!)


	6. epilogue

****Warning/Disclaimer****  

Kingdom Hearts and it's various characters do NOT belong to me.  They belong to Squaresoft, Disney, yadda yadda yadda. I can't get rich off of this sort of stuff—but it does give me all sorts of added bonus.  XD

This is the epilogue, and while it doesn't tie in every loose end…it gives you a nice warm glow.  Perhaps in time, a sequel……which would most likely end up being sex…*cough*….but still.  A sequel, or a oneshot, on how everyone reacts to things….heheh…yes, that would be good, yes?  Yes?  ( The song is "Fallen" by Sarah McLachlin) 

I hope you all enjoyed it! 

**Bind to Thee**

**~_epilogue_~**

_::heaven bent to take my hand:: ___

_::and lead me through the fire:: ___

_::with a long awaited answer:: ___

_::to a long and painful fight:: ___

_::truth be told I've tried my best:: ___

_::but somewhere along the way:: ___

_::I got caught up in all there was to offer:: ___

_::and the cost was so much more than I could bear:: _

Kairi was the first to see him standing at the water's edge, gaze focused out over the blue-green ocean.  She called to him, but the boy didn't turn.  Her heart thumping with uneasiness, she sped up the last few steps to reach his side and gingerly touched his arm. 

"…where's Sora?" the boy whispered.  He turned in her direction without looking at her and asked again, "Where did he go?" 

Kairi examined his eyes, his face, closely before answering, trying to judge the emotion she saw.  Was it fear? Love?  Worry?  She couldn't tell…he just looked vague, and anxious. 

"He went to look for the King.  He said he found a clue, or something…he'll be back," she concluded, whispering.  "He always comes back…"

Riku lowered his head.  "Yes," he said, as if agreeing with her. His hands twitched nervously until he flexed them a few times, while his posture was anxious. 

"Come on, Riku," she said, taking his wrist.  "Let's get you into a bath and clean clothes." 

"Yes, Kairi," Riku replied softly. 

She didn't turn her head to smile at him, like she would have done in the past.  She faced forward to keep her worried and pained expression away.  She didn't want to upset the boy any more, but she wasn't sure just how to deal with this. 

In turn, Kairi missed the longing glance the taller silver-haired boy shot the ocean and the sky. 

~//~__

_::in the lonely light of morning:: ___

_::in the wound that would not heal:: ___

_::is the bitter taste of losing everything:: ___

_::that I've held so dear:: ___

_::fallen, I have sunk so low:: ___

_::I messed up:: ___

_::better, I should know:: _

"He's not in there," Leon remarked before the door could open. 

Turning, tired and depressed, Sora regarded him with a surprisingly hostile gaze and dropped his hand from the latch. 

"Say what?" Sora said, quite able to guess at the meaning behind his words, just unable to process the information. 

Leon flipped him a square white envelope.  "Here.  Kairi left this for you."  Message delivered, the quiet man straightened and sauntered towards the stairs. 

Sora eyed his retreated back in irritated puzzlement, then shook the envelope.  "What'd you do _this_ time, Kairi…" He tore it open and pulled out a letter written in Kairi's looping script. 

_Sora._  Don't be mad, please?  I'm sorry for what I said earlier, I really am. I was just startled.  And you seemed so **angry…Well, anyway.  I'm taking Riku home—he hasn't woken up yet and it's been two ****days. I think it will help if he's in a place he might recognize…but I don't know what he'll do.  Come home, Sora.  We all miss you.**_ ___

_Hugs and Kisses, Kairi. _

~She took him home?~ he thought.  ~Home?!~ 

He read the letter again, glancing at the date of two weeks ago, frowning and feeling a quiet twisting panic.  ~Well, he's safe there, at least…~ he told himself and  tried to think positively. 

Sora sighed and crumpled the letter.  ~But he's supposed to be _here.  Why would she…oh god how _stubborn_…what a __girl.~  he grimaced and hoisted the bag to his shoulder, feeling aches and strains and the numbness of exhaustion.  _

~Didn't even get a chance to eat…~

~//~

Upon arrival at the islands, Sora was struck by how _different everything felt.  It didn't feel the same anymore; it was too small, too bright. The sand was gritty within his shoes, the smell of fish and the sea and an overall __warmth he never really remembered. And yet, it ached of memories.  The trees he had climbed, the waters he had swam in, the home he had known…everything held the flickering taste of familiarity.  _

Sora stepped out into the sands, into the coolness of the breeze and the shade of the trees and smiled.  It did feel nice to be home, even if he felt oversized and out of place. 

~Things to do, Sora, things to do.~ 

He peered down the beach, noting the lack of people.  It wasn't unusual to find the islands nearly deserted, but he knew as well that Kairi had a habit of waiting for him. 

~and Riku.  We have to find Riku.~ 

Kairi would be the easiest to find, he decided.  He squared his shoulders and started down the beach, but his eyes flicked back and forth for a hint of silver, a glimpse of sea-colored eyes.  A hunch told him that she wouldn't be at home, but rather out in the air, where she could feel the sun.  

He found her on the docks, unknotting a skein of fine netting with a hooked needle and a roll of twine.  In the distance he could see the dark shape that was Destiny Islands, the place for the children to play and run and jump.  He shivered, briefly, as his mind overlaid the memory of the torn jagged land, and the final battles with Ansem…

Sora shoved the thought away and glanced around quickly.  There was still no one to be seen, not even Riku, who he had expected to be near Kairi somewhere. 

She looked up at the sound of his echoing footsteps.  Her blue eyes widened fractionally when she saw him, and Sora was relieved to see her smile.  He hadn't been sure she would have smiled after everything that had happened. 

"Hey," he said, quietly.  "How's life?" 

Kairi slid the netting from her lap, hooking the needle into her skirt and stood, barefoot.  "Hey," she replied just as carefully.  "…it's good to see you." 

"Kairi, I—" Sora shuffled, looking down and scratching at his arm.  "Look, I'm sorry," he said after a moment. 

"I know.  It's okay, you bum," she replied.  There wasn't anything more she needed to say. 

Feeling as if his face was sore and stiff, Sora smiled for the first time in weeks. 

He left his bag and shoes at the docks, enjoying the feel of the warm damp sand against his feet, and the sun on his face as they walked along the beach.  After a while, when there were _still_ no one to be seen, he asked, "So where is everyone?  I'd thought I'd see Selphie or Wakka, at least." 

"They're out on the boats right now, helping the adults haul in the fishing nets," Kairi explained.  She smiled faintly.  "They were surprised to see Riku…everyone was.  They all thought he had run away…"

"…so they know, then?" 

Kairi shook her head.  "I told everyone he was traumatized and had problems coping…They seemed to believe me, and Riku…well, he didn't wake up for a while.  When he did…" She shrugged, slowly.  "Well, everyone just leaves him alone." 

"What do you mean…by not waking up, Kairi?  You said that in your note, and now…" Sora asked, stomach jumping.  ~It can't be…~

"He was sleeping when I went to your room back in Traverse Town, so I took him home…and he didn't wake up for two days.  He asked for you…but you were missing again and he just…he just kinda went quiet and withdrawn." 

"He didn't act any different?" Sora whispered.  "Was he still…under the spell?" 

"I think so," Kairi replied in a tiny voice.  "I mean…he still bows and does stuff without question…And without you he was…lost, kinda." she darted a hesitant glance over at him, and twined her fingers together.  "I'm sorry…"

"No," Sora said, sighing, fighting back the lump of disappointment.  "It's okay…I just…I hoped he would've gotten better…"

~He's never going to get better,~ a nasty cynical voice said.  ~But that's okay. You can make him do whatever you want…~

They walked another minute or so before Kairi asked the question foremost on her mind.  "Sora…where did you go this time?" 

"I went to see Miruki and the Council in the desert city.  I had to ask him something, because we left so suddenly last time I never had a chance." 

"Over Riku," she stated. 

Sora nodded painfully.  "I tried, Kairi, I really tried…but I don't know if he'll ever be the same…"

~But…he slept for two days….how would Kairi know if he was back?  She doesn't know him like _I do…~_

He stopped in the sand at the thought, stricken with the two-faced thought of assuming he knew more about Riku than Kairi would, and that at the same time—Riku was never going to be the same.  No matter how much he wanted it to be different…Riku wasn't Riku.  

Sora rubbed at his forehead, trying to get the thought from his head, out into the sands where he could stand on it and bury it.  ~What am I going to do?~ he thought in despair.  ~He's _gotta_ be okay….~

~And if he isn't?~ 

Sora didn't know.  All he could feel was the quickened heartbeat, the lightheaded anticipation, the worry and the sick sense of vertigo.  ~If he is?~ 

~If he is…there's so much I have to tell him…~

"Sora?" Kairi asked, watching him with her large sad blue eyes.  "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah," the brunette replied slowly.  "I'm just trying to think…But…can you bring me to Riku?" 

~//~

_::it's one misstep:: ___

_::one slip before you know it:: ___

_::and there doesn't seem a way to be redeemed:: _

They came out from the trees into the small cove on the eastern side of the main-land island, past the coral reef edging out to be sentinel to the waves.  The water was a clear glassy green, with the reef a smudge of color just under the surface. As Sora stepped carefully on the shell-littered sands, he could remember swimming to the reef, standing on the edges with spear in hand and a net looped over his wrist. 

He had to catch his breath when he stooped under the low palm fronds and caught sight of the figure perched out by the narrow depth-markers along the reefs. 

Kairi was several feet ahead, unaware of his hitched breathing, his startled, expected and anxious gaze.  That he felt a stab of the exhilaration at the sight, and couldn't find it in himself to cry out the words he wanted to say. 

Far out over the water Riku stood waist deep in the water, with his bare back to the shore.  A spear was raised to strike, and as Sora watched from the shadows of the palms, it flashed and sliced into the water. 

~…would he know how to do that if he wasn't Riku?~ a part of him whispered.  ~First the sleeping…now this…why do I feel like I'm missing something?~  Straightening, but not quite sure he wanted to move into open view just yet, Sora brushed a hand through his hair.  

Kairi was at the water's edge, auburn hair streaming prettily as she raised a hand and waved.  "Riku!" she cried loudly.  "Riku, come to shore!" 

The figure out upon the reef turned, one hand shading his eyes.  Sora couldn't tell, not from the distance, if it was Riku…if it was him…or if he had been spotted.  His heart jumped just the same, pounding in the midst of the calm somehow still around him. 

"Riku!" Kairi called again.  "Hurry up now!" 

Reeling in the spear, Riku deftly removed the fish from the barbed end and dropped it within the mesh-like back slung over his shoulder.  Then he slid the spear into a strap across his back and dove into the deeper water, a blur of smooth kicks and tanned skin and darker knee-length shorts. 

When he surfaced, it was in the shallow waters, mid-way deep on him.  He flung his hair from his face and waded towards the shore, wiping an arm across his eyes to clear them.  

"Honestly, Riku—I don't understand how you can stay out there for hours," Kairi chided, hands on her hips.  "Look at you, all scraped up.  How long _have_ you been out there today—you look like you've got sunburn coming up, too." 

"I've been out there since noon, Kairi," Riku murmured, grabbing and setting the spear upright into the sand.  He didn't raise his eyes from the ground as Kairi tsked and reached a hand for the bag he shrugged over his shoulder. 

"Here," she said.  "Let me see what you've caught…"

Riku handed her the bag, as Sora stood in the shadows close and unnoticed, and watched her without expression, despite the elation that froze him to the spot.  Riku looked so normal, so healthy and tanned and— ~Wet,~ his mind whispered—Something niggled in his mind at the sight, at Riku, at something that was slowly adding up…

~But is it possible!?~ 

Sora bit his lip, and cast his eyes to the ground.  ~Is it?  I don't know.  The spell was strong, and Riku was…he wasn't Riku and…is it possible to have him back? After so much?~ 

"–goodness," Kairi was saying.  "This is all you have for the last three hours?" she teased.  

Riku shrugged, lowering his head.  "I'm sorry that it isn't enough—I'll stay out longer—"

"No, no, it's fine," she assured him.  "Well—wait a minute—where'd—" she paused to look around, twisting to peer over her shoulder. 

~Crap.  Here we go.~ Sora had a brief moment of panic and entertained the thought of running very fast and very far—

—but then Riku glanced up and met his eyes while Kairi made a face at the brunette. 

"Sora—stop hiding in the shadows and come over here!" she commanded. 

The Keyblade wielder barely noticed her words, too trapped within the flare of panic in Riku's sea-green eyes, in the affected neutral expression.  ~…is it…possible?~ 

Then it was over as Riku slid his gaze back to the sand at his feet.  

Kairi turned, exasperated and annoyed when Sora didn't respond, and hoisted the catch-bag into her arms.  "Well, I'm going to leave you two alone and bring these to the fish-yard.  I'll be right back, so don't go anywhere!" she admonished, shaking a free finger at Sora. 

"Yeah, I know, Kairi," Sora replied.  He stifled a sigh and took a few awkward steps forward as she moved away, glancing back and forth between her retreating form and Riku's down-turned face. 

When she had passed almost out of sight, Sora turned his gaze back to Riku and merely looked for a moment.  Then he shrugged, taking another few steps forward, trying to get a glimpse of the eyes behind the silver-fall of hair, of the face and perhaps of what to expect—

—even though his heart was hammering in the knowledge that _something had changed—_

~The sleeping.  The spearfishing…he looked at me—is he…is he back? Is he Riku?~ 

Sora frowned, biting his lip and tilted his head.  "Hey…are you angry with me?" 

Slowly, Riku shook his head, left arm bent across his middle and the fingers smoothing over the opposite elbow.  He didn't speak or raise his eyes at Sora's question, or his close presence. 

"…did I do something wrong?" Sora whispered. 

Again, Riku shook his head. 

"Are you going to talk to me?" 

The boy paused for a long time while Sora waited, the fingers digging into his arm.  Slowly, almost with visible effort, Riku spoke.  "What do you want me to say?"   There was a flash of sea-green eyes from behind the hair, anguished and full of concealed emotion in the icy mask. 

And Sora knew.  He exhaled in slow shock, one hand ghosting to his mouth and brushing briefly.  "I…" he laughed, shortly.  "I guess you could tell me what you're doing here, pretending…"

Surprise flashed across his face, Iceheart's face, and Sora knew even while Riku murmured, "Pretending?" in an indignant tone. 

"I didn't…I didn't know if you would ever find your way back," Sora explained.  "I didn't know what to do…I'm sorry I left, but I thought…I didn't know how to make it better.  I went to see Miruki but that didn't help.  So I came here, and…" he ran a hand through his hair, conscious of the piercing gaze.  "I guess the first clue was that you had slept for a long time…and then you were fishing—and I didn't know if you could do that and _not_ be Riku, you know?" 

Riku said nothing, did nothing. 

"Then…I guess…I knew you were pretending because…because I could see your face, and I could see you…and you were you and…" Sora sighed softly, crossed his arms self-consciously and shrugged.  "I would always know you…"

"…I'm that easy to read?" Riku whispered.  "Not even my mother could tell…not even Kairi…I changed too much for them to know me anymore…but not you…"

Silence grew around them, then, as they stood in the sand and looked at everything but each other.  The waves were a soft _shushing_ against the sand, the wind rustling the stiff fronds as the birds cried out overhead.  Sounds of life, of memories and history…

"Look—" Sora began, heart still thumping crazily.  "Can we sit down for a moment?  Sit and talk, I mean?  I…I think we should, you know…because of everything." 

Wordlessly, Riku nodded.  They moved to the shade, sitting in the cooler sand and leaning against the scratchy palms.  

Riku was the first to break the silence this time. "...it was easier…"

Sora looked at him, half-facing him with elbows on his knees and worried at the fringe of his shorts.  "Easy?" 

"Pretending.  Letting everyone believe I had been hurt, or messed up…they left me alone and didn't bother me with questions…and Kairi stopped acting all weird around me…I think she prefers me this way, you know.  I'm not such a threat." 

Sora frowned, and shrugged.  "She likes to be in charge," he said. 

"Yeah.  But…it was still easier.  And I didn't know if you were coming back…" Riku glanced at him.  "After everything…that happened." 

Sora nodded, and for a while no one spoke.  The silence fell upon them and surrounded them, hiding them within a small safe world.  Sora let his hand drift to the sand and scraped out lines and circles, watching from the corner of his eye as Riku merely propped his chin on his knees.  He wasn't sure if the feeling inside his chest was exhilaration, adrenaline or fear or something worse—

~What if he _hates_ me?!~ 

All he knew was that his head was dizzy and his heart wanted to run circles around his stomach and he tingled, almost.  

~It's him,~ ran over and over within his mind.  ~It's _him.~_

"So what happens now?" Riku whispered.  "I mean, when Kairi gets back…when everyone else is here…what happens?  What do we tell them?" 

"I…I don't know.  Would it be better if we _did_ tell them?  Or would it make it all worse?  I don't know…I've never…" Sora dug a hand into the sand.  "I don't want to tell them anything, really.  It's not something I want to share with the world, you know." 

A glance to the other boy showed a pale face and a tinge of red on the cheeks. 

"Riku…" Sora ventured, when the silence whispered back around them.  "Do you…remember what happened after Ithian hit you with that spell?" 

The sea-green eyes met his for a too-short moment.  "Yes.  Of sorts.  It was…hazy.  Like a dream…but I remember," he ended in a whisper.  "I remember…"

"…Oh.  Okay…" Sora blushed miserably.  

Riku smiled shyly.  "Did…did you mean it, Sora?  Did you mean what you said?" 

"I…said?" he fixed him with a startled glance. 

"What you said.  It…it was something you said, Sora. In that strange dream…I could hear you talking.  And you asked…you asked…" his brow furrowed.  

"I said 'Come back to me' didn't I?" Sora finished.  "I asked you to come back because I—" he blushed, closing his mouth with a snap, and focused his eyes on sand and toes and feet. 

~Because I love you,~ echoed in his mind.  ~I don't even know why…I do…~

A corner of Riku's mouth twitched, an almost-smile.  "Did you mean it?" he repeated, eyes serious and a touch blue in the shadows.  Something lurked in their depths, hidden, secret, but Sora didn't notice. 

"I…oh man…about—I mean…yeah," he finished lamely, blushing horribly.  "It's okay if you don't want me to, I mean—it would be easier, right? If we just—"

Riku pulled himself forward, rolling onto his knees and stretching out a hand.  His fingers found Sora's mouth and covered it.  He knelt closer than expected, close enough that Sora could feel the press of a jaw against his cheek, the tiny breath that stirred the hair just above his ears, and most of all the cool slender fingers against his mouth. 

"Riku?" he tried to mumble, shivering and too-warm in the face.  A whirling heart-stopping sensation attacked his insides. 

Riku spoke, "Just…just be quiet…I don't want to forget and I don't…I don't regret anything, Sora.  _Anything_.  I thought I told you that…but sometimes what I do and what I think are two different things, you know." His mouth brushed the skin of his temple, as Sora followed the line of his neck and shoulder with his eyes, almost tasting the salt-water and spice of him.  

"and because," Riku said, voice nearly a whisper.  "Because I think I have always loved you…so I don't want you to go away again…I never thought you would…I-I want to _be_ with you no matter where you go or what happens.  I want to be there." 

_//"Because…because I think I have always loved Sora."// _

"Riku," the brunette whispered against the fingers.  "I'm not going anywhere yet…but if I do…I want you with me." 

The boy gave a shuddering sigh, something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh and bent to nudge a cheek against Sora's jaw, against his cheek and neck, in the manner of a cat.  "Okay," he said simply. 

Then he pulled back with unexpected speed, meeting and catching Sora's blue gaze in the dappled light.  There was still a flush of color over the cheeks, and there was hesitation, fear, love, anticipation all mixed up within his expression.  

Riku smiled carefully, as if the expression would crack on his face.  "Sora—" he began. 

The brunette blushed even more, but dared to cup the face in his hands.  A tug closed the small distance, and he brushed his mouth over Riku's lips.  A hand settled against his cheek and Riku's mouth was warm and dry against his, the dim sense of Riku's pulse matching his when his palm grazed over the column of the throat. 

Riku kissed him back, parting his mouth and meeting the casual press of Sora's tongue, the warmth of his fingers and the sun on his back, the sand against his skin and everything melted into a colorless brilliant blur.  

Time melted away as they kissed (as all good kisses will do to time).  The sun shone and the waves danced with the shore.  Shadows fled and shifted shape as Sora found the courage to run a hand against the skin and licked his lips, looking up as Riku bumped his forehead against his.  He met the eyes again. 

"So…" he whispered.  

"So," Riku echoed. 

"Wanna go for a swim?" 

~~

_::heaven bent to take my hand:: ___

_::and lead me through the fire:: ___

_::with a long-awaited answer:: ___

_::to a long and painful fight.:: _

~~really, the end.~~ 

A/N – some explanations, right?  Well—if you haven't caught it yet, read ch. 5 and look for the 'moments' and you'll discover just what was used to break Riku's spell.  There are three. :D 

Ano—I'm sorry if I made it seem as if Riku would be a slave forever—and oh my god I'm so **sappy in this epilogue!!!—but the vagueness was necessary.  You weren't supposed to know if he was Riku or the slave, and neither was Sora.  So…I hope I met your expectations…**

(sappy sap sap sap! *squee*)

_  and I really expected to have more lemon in this…like, lots…but somehow the angst took over.  Maybe I'll have to do something like 'deleted scenes' or something.  *shrug* 

There's so much I could explain, but if you hadn't caught all the nuances within it, then it would kinda ruin it for you, right?  There are a few, tho. Like Kairi and how she treats Riku.  Like Sora and his confusion, his response to Riku.  Like back in the desert city where Riku is all freaked out, messed up…_  :D  lemme know if you like it!  

I swear, this is the shortest story *ever* that I've finished and yet, still took me forever!! 

…now to finish others…_  


End file.
